


The Boy and The Nutcracker

by Renommus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ballet, Ballet AU, Crush at First Sight, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Multi, Pining Keith (Voltron), angst but not really?, ballerinas, ballet lance, dance au, klance, they them pronouns, young keith, young lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 75,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renommus/pseuds/Renommus
Summary: Keith never imagined he'd enjoy ballet. Then he saw the Nutcracker.





	1. The Nutcracker

**Author's Note:**

> This beautiful au was inspired by tumblr user "thesearchingastronaut"'s stunning piece of fanart: http://thesearchingastronaut.tumblr.com/post/155087142517/thesearchingastronaut-thesearchingastronaut  
> For real, it's adorable and everyone should go see it.

Keith never imagined he’d enjoy ballet. 

At first, it was simply a dance that all of the boys in his sixth-grade class would make fun of. It was referred to as “girly” and “prissy,” terms Keith tended to shy away from. The mantra, _Ballet is for girl’s_ , had been ingrained within his mind ever since the day the kid’s during recess brought it up. Ballet was for girls, and that was that. And no boy wanted to be like the girls. 

So when his older brother Shiro decided to take him to the Nutcracker, Keith was less than thrilled. 

“I don’t wanna go!” he cried as he dug his nails into the doorway.

Shiro pulled on his legs, huffing as he finally pried Keith from the front door and swung him over his shoulder. “Keith, come _on_. This is going to be fun!”

Keith struggled underneath his grasp, knowing it was futile, but was too stubborn to go down without a fight. “You’re only saying that because _Allura_ invited you to go.” He made sure to add as much venom to her name as he could, being _she_ was the cause of this whole mess. He’d been dating her for months now, and it was disgusting to see how easily he caved whenever she asked him to join her to events like this. From what Shiro had mentioned, she was some fancy dance teacher at some even fancier dance school. She was nice, he supposed, but watching Shiro melt over her every word was just. So. Annoying! Shiro had said it was love once, but if “love” consists of making gooey eyes at one another, fawning over every beck and call, and basically throwing your self-respect out the window, Keith prayed that love never comes his way. 

Sighing, Shiro placed Keith in front of his car’s passenger door, then leaned down and clasped his hands over his shoulders. “Keith, please, behave for once. I go back to school in a week, remember? And I want to spend it with you! Even if it is at the ballet. Come on, it’s a new experience! One you may remember for the rest of your life.” 

Keith wasn’t buying it. He crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow at him. Shiro frowned, then a small smile touched his lips. “Alright, I’ll make you a deal. If you go with me to this, I’ll take you to The Star-dome tomorrow night. Deal?” 

Keith stifled a gasp. _The Star-dome?_ Oh, Shiro was playing dirty. The Stare-dome was the name for their town’s planetarium, and the observatory inside it was by far Keith’s favorite place in the world. They had this amazing telescope that Keith had asked for for Christmas (jokingly, of course… Well, sort of). You could see stars for miles on end, make out all different kinds of constellations, and identify each of the planets depending on the how cloudy it was. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, Saturday—that’s right during the Ursid meteor shower! Oh, how could he refuse? 

Shooting Shiro a glare, Keith shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and lowered his gaze. “You can’t tell anyone that I was at the ballet. Got it?” 

Shiro tried his best to hide his smirk, failing. “I wouldn’t dare.” 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time they got there, the theater was packed. 

“Shiro!” 

Keith looked up as Shiro lead him down the aisle, spotting Allura near the front of the stage. She smiled brightly as she waved them over, greeting Shiro with a quick peck (gross) and Keith with a short hug. 

“I’m so glad you both could make it,” she said as they filed into their seats. Keith sat at the edge of their row, smack down in front of the stage. Great. Allura pawed around in her purse and handed down a couple of programs. Keith didn’t bother to read his. “I heard this group is the best they’ve seen years,” she went on. 

“Who’s the kid you’re here to recruit?” Shiro asked her. 

Allura’s smile widened. “Oh, well they’re—” 

Suddenly, the lights began to dim. Allura settled back in her seat and whispered, “Don’t worry, you’ll see.” 

The crowd hushed as the curtain in front of him parted. Keith sunk in his seat as the lights centered on the stage, already regretting his agreement with Shiro. For the briefest of moments, he doubted a visit to the planetarium was worth this sort of torture. 

That’s when the music started. 

The low, soft hum of the violin filled his ears. It wasn’t, well, terrible, but Keith would much rather be at home listening to space podcasts than whatever this was called. 

Soon, two kids, a boy and a girl—both around his age—pranced onto the stage, accompanied by another man much older than they. Keith sat up straighter. _I didn’t know boys did ballet… I didn’t know boys _dared_ to do ballet._ He continued to watch, somewhat enthralled. 

In the beginning, there wasn’t as much dancing as Keith would have assumed. If anything, it was sort of like a silent movie. A lot of hand gestures, a lot of smiling. More people flooded the stage, more adults (boys included) and more kids, all dressed in Victorian apparel. Eventually, a man wearing an eye-patch came into sight, and Keith leaned forward some. Unlike everyone else, he wasn’t dressed in frills, but a dark burgundy suit with white cuffs and black cuff links, his grey hair tousled about his head in a manic display. He scowled at the audience, then turned his attention to the other dancers. Keith wouldn’t dare to admit it, but the man actually looked kind of cool. Even intimidating. 

You know, if he wasn’t doing ballet. 

The man strutted forward, searching about the crowd with a single eyebrow raised. The music picked up in pace, then slowed as he stopped in front of one girl with a pink ribbon in her hair. The man reached within his suit and pulled out a tall, wood nutcracker, then bent down and handed it to her. That’s when the music shifted. A light centered on the girl as she twirled around with her new toy, ogling it like it was the most precious thing on the planet. A moment later, the stage lights dimmed, a signal for almost all of the dancers to leave the stage. The girl looked down at her nutcracker, eyeing it sadly, then placed it on the floor. She exchanged one last look with the man who’d given it to her, then they both exited the stage. A moment of silent passed, then a single spotlight centered on the nutcracker. A pause, next, silver smoke billowed out from both sides of the stage, enveloping it. When it cleared, the nutcracker was gone. 

_What the…?_

The girl suddenly came back onto stage, searching wildly for her toy. And she found him, but not in the form Keith expected. 

“Oh, wow,” he whispered. 

A boy around his age entered stage left, dressed in the same costume the nutcracker was wearing: a bright blue tunic pulled together by gleaming golden ribbons and buttons, white tights, and a black toy soldier hat. On the toy nutcracker, it looked ridiculous, but on _him_ … 

Keith’s eyes traveled up his lean, elegant body, and his eyes widened as they settled on his face. He had rich dark skin and features as sharp as his outfit. He was also wearing makeup. A tint of pink had been brushed over his cheeks; Keith knew if _he_ did that, he’d be the laughingstock of the school. But on him… Well, Keith would knock out the teeth of anyone that even _thought_ about chuckling. 

He leaned forward, getting as close to the stage as he could without leaving his seat. In the stage light, the boy’s blue eyes practically shone. 

Then he started to dance. 

He balanced on the very tip of his point shoe, tilting forward to take the girl’s hand. For the rest of the performance, Keith watched him like he did the stars. He danced with so much grace… such precision, and not to mention _talent_ —Keith had no idea bodies could produce such, such art! 

_And I thought the stars were pretty…_

This boy depicted the very label that Keith grew up learning to mock: girly. But at the same time, he didn’t. Who said that ballet was girly? And hey, who cared if it was? No, ballet was beautiful. This _boy_ was beautiful. Watching him was like watching not only the stars, but the universe as a whole. He couldn’t get enough. And when the performance ended, he knew he wanted—no, _needed_ —more. 

Keith never thought he’d enjoy ballet, but it was thanks to the boy dressed as the Nutcracker to prove him wrong. 


	2. Five Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finds his way back to ballet.

_I’m so screwed._

On the front steps of the high school, Keith sat awaiting two angry parents and a grounding that would last him until the end of time. He leaned over and rested his chin against his palm, his leg bouncing up and down in anxiousness. He could only imagine what the principal had said to them over the phone.

“Yes, Ms. And Mr. Takashi? This is Principal Jennings. I’m calling to inform you that your son, _once again_ —”

Groaning, Keith rubbed his temple. He couldn’t count how many times he’d been sent home early due to “disruption of the student body,” but it wasn’t his fault! Well, it sort of was, but someone else started it. Someone else _always_ starts it, and they always deserve what comes to them. Keith makes sure of that. But this time, he _may_ have gone a tad too far. 

“Keith!” someone familiar shouted. 

He glanced up to see his older brother making his way through the school gates. Keith squinted. Shiro? What was he doing here? He was supposed to be off in fighter pilot training. He was wearing his uniform, so he must have come straight from the Garrison (one of the country’s top piloting schools). But—

“Why are you here?” Keith asked with more snark in his tone than he intended. “I thought you weren’t coming home for a couple of more weeks.” 

Shiro shook his head, frowning. “I came home early. Thought it’d be a nice surprise for Mom, but you know what she said to me right as I walked through the door?” He crossed his arms, and shot him one of his infamous, _I’m not mad at you, I’m just disappointed… Actually I’m seriously pissed_ look. He leaned forward and jabbed a finger to Keith’s chest. “She said, ‘Can you pick Keith up from school? He got in a fight.’ _Again_!”

Rolling his eyes, Keith snatched up his backpack and started for the school gates. 

“Keith, this can’t keep happening!” he cried as he caught up to him. “How many fights has this been? Twelve?” 

Sighing, Keith shook his head. “Thirteen.”

They approached Shiro’s car parked on the curb. Keith reached for the handle on the passenger door, but Shiro curved around him and pressed a hand against the window, preventing him from opening it. “Keith,” Shiro said sternly. “Mom and Dad didn’t put you through four years of taekwondo just so you could mess around with everyone that gives you a funny look. You can’t keep acting like this. Seriously, what was the fight even about, anyway?” 

Shrugging, Keith absently tugged on the door handle. Then he sighed. Keith had always been a scrapper, starting from middle school. Anytime anyone called him something even remotely insulting, he’d charge at them. Then his parents put him in taekwondo. They thought that all of his bottled-up energy could be channeled into training, and it was. But ever since he started high school, it’s been one fight after the other. Why? Because people are idiots. 

“Well?” Shiro asked.

Keith shot him a glare, his gaze drifting to the gate bordering the high school next to him. He peered past the fencing and onto the back-lot of the building, recalling the fight and its rewarding result afterward.

Keith had been walking down the hall when he spotted a glimpse of Kevin Pierce, one of his classmates, outside the backdoor window. So, curious, Keith slinked over to get a better look. Outside, Kevin was cowering beneath a pair of thickheaded goons. There was an endless supply of them in his junior class, so he wasn’t surprised he didn’t know their names, and he didn’t care to. All he cared about was stopping them from kicking the living shit out of Kevin for being the only boy in their school to wear prada heels and maybelline mascara. Honestly? All of Keith’s fights were provoked by assholes like this. The bullies that zeroed in on the kids that were (God forbid!) different. Keith had learned a long time ago that “social norms” were things of utter bullshit. Watching as someone got bullied for going against them wasn’t something Keith could stand. 

But telling Shiro this wouldn’t make much of a difference, would it? 

“They had it coming,” Keith managed as he yanked the door handle, opening the door despite Shiro’s body weight against it. He slipped inside and stretched his seatbelt across him, avoiding Shiro’s disappointment filled eyes as he got in the driver’s seat next to him.

“Keith, it doesn’t matter if they have it coming. In these situations, you’ve got to be the bigger person. You’ve got to start setting your priorities straight. From now on, you can’t pull stuff like this, okay?” He started the car and pulled away from the curb. They sat in silence a moment, then Shiro sighed, following up his ‘do better’ speech by asking, “How long are you suspended for this time?”

Keith sat up a little straighter. “Wait, Mom didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“I wasn’t just suspended. I got expelled.” 

Shiro slammed on the breaks. “You—”

The next hour or so, Keith spent in his room with his back pressed against his bedroom door, overhearing snippets of the family’s conversation about his “future,” from the living room down the hall. A conversation they thought best to leave him out of. 

“—what are we going to do?—”

“—we’ll figure something out—”

“—I’m just surprised it took them this long to actually bite the bullet—”

_Gah._

Keith rose from the floor and hunkered down in his bed, shoving headphones over his ears as he turned on one of his prerecorded space podcasts. Who were they to decide what direction his future was going to go? Shouldn’t he have a say? Grumbling, Keith turned on his side, causing his phone that he’d place on his stomach to drop to the floor. He reached down to grab it, but as he did so, something under his bed caught his eye, a glimmer. He stretched an arm out and grabbed it, his fingers grazing over something thin and smooth. When he pulled back his arm, he was holding none other than his program for the Nutcracker.

_Oh, wow…_

Sighing, Keith laid back in bed and brushed his fingers over the sparkling red letters over the front of the page: _The Nutcracker and the Mouse King._

God, how long had it been since he saw that show? Five years? Jeez… Keith opened the program, eyes skimming over the list of dancers that’d performed that night, heart sinking as he knew he’d never be able to recognize any of them. 

After the performance ended that night, the minute the curtain closed, Shiro had taken Keith’s hand and began leading him out of the theater. “W—wait!” Keith had said as he glanced back at the curtain. Behind it, the beautiful boy was probably getting ready to leave. “Where are we going?”

Shiro had smiled, completely unaware of how distressed Keith was for leaving without knowing the true name of the Nutcracker. “We’re going to the Star-dome. I know how hard it must have been to sit through that, so I told Allura I’d see her tomorrow.” He knelt down and patted his cheek. “Again, thanks a lot for coming with me. This will be the last ballet I take you to, okay? Promise.”

And it was. 

After that night, Keith never saw that boy again. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed to admit he enjoyed the ballet, but too shy to seek out his true identity. He never got the chance to ask Allura, either—she and Shiro had broken up not long after the show. She was going off to New York to teach some special advanced class with her new recruit, while Shiro went off to the Garrison. “Distance,” Shiro had mumbled to him one day. “It was nothing personal. It was just… distance.” 

After that, did Keith occasionally visit the theater to maybe see if the boy was there? Sure, why wouldn’t he? That night, he hadn’t just been captured by the boy’s beauty, but the beauty of ballet. He’d occasionally see a show just to watch the grace in the steps of the dancers. But after weeks and months of coming up short, he’d stopped walking in there with hope of seeing him. He’d come to terms with the unwavering fact that the boy at the ballet was like, like Halley’s comet! A dazzling display of beauty that leaves you breathless and amazed, but in an instant, its gone, and you’re stuck yearning for something that won’t come around again for years to come. 

AKA never. 

Just then, a knock came from the door, followed by Shiro sticking his head into his room. “Hey, can I come in?” he asked softly.

“You already are.”

Shiro sighed, already dejected with his attitude, and closed the door behind him. He took a seat at the edge of Keith’s bed, clasping his hands within one another. “So, Mom and Dad and I have been talking…”

Keith took off his headphones. Oh, this should be good. “And the reason they aren’t in here to talk to me themselves is because…?”

Shiro rubbed the back of his neck. “They thought it’d be easier coming from me.” He scooted closer. “Look, we could only think of one option, but you’re not gonna like it.” He breathed in deep, as if steeling himself for the reaction he’s about get. “Military school.”

 _Whoa what?_ Keith shot upright, mouth agape in utter surprise and downright betrayal. “ _Military school_? Are you serious? You’re that eager to get rid of me?” 

Shiro groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Keith, you’ve got to get _some_ form of education—”

But before he could finish, Keith stormed out of the room; he’d heard enough. 

“Keith, get back here!” Shiro shouted behind him.

Ha, right. He was out the door and down the street in no time. He couldn’t believe military school was there go-to. He knew he wasn’t his parents golden child, like Shiro, but… but this is what they resort to? Sending him away? Well, fine, if that’s the case, then he’d just… leave! He didn’t know where he’d go, but anywhere was better than a place he wasn’t wanted. Before he knew it, he was on the next bus, unconcerned with where it was heading. He planted himself in a seat in the back and crossed his arms, sulking. He knew this was petty, and childish, but at the same time, he didn’t care. He sunk in his seat and gazed out the window. For the most part, he paid very little to his surroundings. That is until he realized just where the bus was headed: the theater.

Well, not exactly the theater, but the town the theater was in. 

When the bus came to a halt, he left his seat and headed out into the night. As he stepped onto the pavement, he immediately pulled up the mental map he’d acquired from previous visits. A block later, he was standing in front of the theater, staring longingly up at the empty list of showings.  
Was it weird that this was the place that he wound up at? Probably. Still, it’s not like he had anywhere better to go. Shiro would check the Star-dome, but even the stars didn’t seem appealing right now. As beautiful as they were, he always felt alone looking at them. They were balls of gas, while here, at the theater, life and passion and _people_ were present. Right now, it felt more like home than anywhere else. 

“Keith?”

Keith froze. He knew that voice. _Is that…?_ He turned; Allura was standing only a few feet away, bundled up in a winter jacket with her hair tied up in a loose bun. She looked exactly the same as she did five years ago. She was even wearing the same coat she had on the night they watched the Nutcracker together. “Allura?” he whispered, voice hoarse. 

Her smile was vibrant; it’s like nothing changed. How had she aged so well? Shiro was already developing some grey. “Keith, is that really is you?” she asked. “Oh my—” She pulled him into a hug, one he immediately stiffened up to, but it didn’t take long to relax to her warmth. When she pulled back, she held him by the shoulders and asked, “How are you?”

He didn’t know what it was, maybe how vulnerable he felt at the moment, or the sincerity in her tone, but right then, Keith just spilled… everything, starting from the fights to the expulsion. They ended up on a park bench a few blocks away. “And now they’re going to send me to military school, and I just… don’t know what to do," he mumbled miserably as he hung his head. 

Allura pondered this for a moment, and it was then that Keith could finally see what Shiro liked so much about her. And to be honest, he could also see what attracted her to Shiro, too. They both held special altruistic qualities, qualities Keith only wished he carried. 

Another moment later, Allura’s eyes widened, and she met his gaze with a sudden realization. “Shiro said you had to have some form of education, correct?”

Keith shrugged. “Basically.” 

Grin widening, Allura leaned in and spread her hands out before her. “So why not dance school?”

Keith stared at her. Did he just hear that right? “You’re going to have to repeat that.”

Allura chuckled. “Look, the reason I’m here is because I’m back teaching at the Altea Dance Academy. You know, the one near the theater. I can pull some strings, get you in one of my classes. They even supply high school classes for those living on campus, so not only would you graduate with experience with ballet, but a high school diploma; it’s a win win!”

Keith seriously couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But… I’m too old…” He was too embarrassed to say that, after the Nutcracker, he’d actually looked up the prices to get into ballet school. Any ballet school, really. He played with the idea of becoming just as good as the boy dressed as the Nutcracker in order to get famous enough to bump into him again. Unfortunately, he read somewhere that the only way to get that good was to start as early as three years old. Keith had been twelve. He thought it was too late; he _still_ thinks its too late.

Allura crossed her arms, a knowing smirk on her face. “How old are you? Sixteen?”

He nodded.

“Please, with me as your coach, I can get you on pointe in three to four years. With your body? You’d be a natural. Only issue is you’d have to be completely dedicated to the craft, at least until graduation.” She waggled her eyebrows. “So? Whatta ya say?”

To be honest, Keith didn’t know _what_ to say. He sat there with his mouth mimicking a guppy’s, until he finally managed, “Why are you giving me such an amazing opportunity?”

Allura snapped her fingers, making Keith jump. “Because of that right there. You know what you just called ballet? _Amazing_. You think ballet is amazing! Keith, the night at the Nutcracker, I saw the look on your face when the music started; you were captured, right from the start. Shiro denied it, but I knew.” Smiling, she took his hand and squeezed. “Keith, I don’t expect you to become a professional ballet dancer, but I would like to give you the opportunity to see just how wonderful the world of ballet can be. If you let it, this could be an experience you could remember for the _rest of your life_.”

 _“One you could remember for the rest of your life.”_ The same thing Shiro had said to him the night they went to the ballet. Keith closed his eyes, the sight of the Nutcracker’s pink tinted cheeks and dazzling blue eyes flashing through his mind. God, if only he could see him again. Would taking this chance make that a possibility? At this point, did it matter? It was _ballet_ or military school. 

“I’ll do it,” Keith said. 

Allura smirked her infamous, all-knowing smile, one he remembered her giving to Shiro more often than not. “Trust me, Keith, you’re not going to regret it.”

And he never did. In fact, agreeing to do ballet was the best decision he could have made. 

He just didn’t know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for not introducing Lance yet, but don't worry, he'll be in the next one. Wanted to do my best to set up the plot and setting before introducing all of the characters. Having a lot of fun writing this and I hope you're all enjoying it. Happy reading!


	3. Reunited, but it doesn't feel too good.

Shiro cut the engine as they pulled up to the Academy. Keith swallowed hard as he leaned forward to look up at the building, exchanging a brief glance with his brother before returning his gaze to what looked more like a castle than a school.

“It’s… bigger than I remember,” Shiro said lamely. 

Keith nodded meekly. They were currently perched at the bottom of the hill that Altea Academy sat atop of. The main building was miles high, its white brick walls smooth enough to reflect off the sun’s rays. There were three smaller buildings surrounding it, and Keith sunk in his seat at the sight of them. This place was ten times bigger than his puny high school back home. 

“Um…” Shiro delved into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. “From the map, it looks like your dorm is the small… er, smaller building on the left there.”

“I can’t believe Allura’s letting me go here,” Keith said in awe.

“I still can’t believe you _want_ to go here,” Shiro admitted. “God, the look on Mom and Dad’s face when you asked them….”

Ah yes. Upon hearing their rebel son would rather resort to pointe shoes and tights instead of an army jacket and buzzed off hair, they were stunned into silence for a prolonged hour. It was only when they could form sentences again that they agreed. 

They got out of the car and started up the grueling stairs embedded in the hill that lead up to the Academy. When they finally got to the top, Shiro handed him his bags and shoved his hands in his pocket, doing everything he could to avoid looking up at the school. “Um, I would go in with you, but um...” _Allura’s in there_ , is probably what he couldn’t allow himself to say. Instead, he cleared his throat and uttered, “Mom and Dad would have seen you off, but they—”

“Had work, I know.” Keith knew his parents wanted the best for him, and did everything they could to ensure him what’s best, but there has always been that unspoken truth that they would always love Shiro more. Mainly because he was the child they _chose_ to have, not the one they got stuck with.

Biting his lip, Keith shook away that fact and waved Shiro off. “It’s fine, really.” He stood there awkwardly trying to avoid Shiro’s pitying stare, so he backed up toward the school. “Um, I’m going to find my dorm. Allura said class starts at ten, so…”

“Right, right. Um, say hi to her for me.” 

Keith eyed him. What’s with the way he’s standing? It’s as if he’s getting ready to bolt. He knew things must be awkward for him and Allura right now, but he thought that he’d at least want to say hello. They broke up because of distance, right? It’s not like they hated each. In fact, it was probably the opposite. “Speaking of Allura,” Keith started, “she’s back in town, so distance isn’t really an issue between you guys anymore, is it? Maybe you two can get back together.”

Shiro hadn’t reacted the way Keith had expected. Instead of looking hopeful, he recoiled in what appeared to be… fear? “Well, I still go to the Garrison, so…”

“Yeah, but that’s only an hour away. You guys can still—”

“Keith, enough!”

Keith blinked at him. It was a rare sight to see Shiro lose his temper, and it was clear sign that there was far more to their breakup than he first assumed. “Shiro, what exactly happened between you and Allura?” he asked softly. “Was it really just… distance?” 

Shiro didn’t respond, but his silence spoke volumes. Something more had happened between them. But… it wasn’t his place to pry. “Never mind. Not my business. I’ll just… go find my dorm—”

“Keith. Wait.” Blowing out a breath, Shiro ran a hand through his hair, giving Keith a stern, but at the same time pleading look. “I know you promised you’d try, but I need you to mean it. This is your last chance, as horrible as that sounds. You’re a good kid, and I don’t want you to blow this opportunity.” 

Keith stared at Shiro, suddenly evoked with far too much guilt than he could bare. How many times had he caused trouble for him? The most caring, supportive, big brother he could ask for. He didn’t deserve him, and yet he was eternally grateful that he was in fact his. “I won’t,” Keith said with more confidence than he thought he could muster. “I promise you. I’ll make this work.”

Doubt flickered across Shiro’s face, but to Keith’s surprise, that doubt vanished almost as fast as it appeared. “I believe you,” he responded. He grabbed both of Keith’s shoulders and squeezed, then smiled. He reached one hand up and patted his cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” With one last smirk, he headed back down the hill. 

Keith watched him until he was out of sight. After he was, he took a deep breath and headed into the Academy. The wide double doors opened to a large corridor that was bathed in soft pink and white light. That’s when Keith saw the stained-glass mural embedded in the ceiling above, the sun’s rays casting down the colors within the image depicted: A ballerina being lifted into the air by the arms of a male ballerina. Keith stared up at in reverence, then shook his head. He couldn’t stand here all day. If he was going to make it to Allura’s class on time, then he needed to find his dorm first. 

Keith kept one hand on the wall as he ventured further inside. Each hall he went down, he passed framed photo after framed photo of dancers, probably those who graduated long ago. But after what seemed like forever, he was starting to feel trapped. This place was like a labyrinth, and he wondered if he would ever find his room… or a way out. 

Just then, he heard a familiar voice coming from down the hall. _Oh thank God. People!_ He flocked to the open door at the end of the hall, stepping into a room where its walls consisted of nothing but mirrors. Newly sanded ballet bars were set up in rows across the polished wooden floor. Allura walked in from a door on the other side of the room with a ballet bar stand in her arms, placing it at the end of the row. She was wearing a loose over-the-shoulder shirt with a black tang top underneath, as well as pink tights with leg warmers over her calves. When she saw Keith, she broke out into a smile and called him over. “Hey, you’re early.”

“Yeah. I… I uh, couldn’t find my dorm.”

Allura chuckled. “Ah. Here, I’ll take you. You probably want to get dressed before class starts.”

“Dressed?” 

“Mhm. Into uniform.”

“Uniform?” 

Allura opened her mouth, then snapped it closed. She smirked at him and crossed her arms. “In class, the girls wear black leotards, and _salmon_ colored tights, not pink. Bloch brand, preferably. Same for pointe shoes. For boys, plain fitted white shirts tucked into black tights, as well as black dance shoes. No jewelry, and _hair_ …” She strode over to him and toyed with the strands of loose hair hanging over his neck. “Well, I’ll let it slide this time. But for the record, either a bun, or combed back is what’s preferable.” She grinned as she studied the clueless look on his face. “You didn’t know any of this, did you?”

“Well—”

“Even after the pamphlet I gave you about classes?”

Keith rubbed the back of his neck. “I figured sweatpants would suffice….”

“Oh, Keith.” Letting out a soft sigh, she gestured to another door at the end of the room. “Bags down. We have extra uniforms in the boy’s locker room, but by the time we scrounge up something clean, class will be starting.” 

And she hadn’t lied. The boy’s locker room air was practically visible, its acrid smell damn near eye watering. They did eventually find him something clean, but it took them centuries to obtain it. By the time he was done changing, boys and girls were already stretching at the bars. Allura waved him over. “Alright, a little info.  
Lucky for you, I managed to squeeze you in the level beneath my advanced class. Don’t get me wrong, these kids are all extremely well trained, and you’ll have to work like hell to catch up to their level, but with my help, I know you’ll make it.” 

Keith scanned the room. These kids were about the same age, but he knew for a fact that they were basically professionals compared to him. “Why didn’t you just put me in the beginner’s class? I’m sure I’d fit in better.”

“Because the beginners class is filled with four years old, and as funny as it would be to see you surrounded by munchkins, it wouldn’t be ethical. You’re physically built, for the most part, so our main focus is learning stretches and moves and eventually routines. Flexibility and body strength will come with learning all of this. Now, take your place near at bar. There’s room near Pidge.”

“Who?”

Allura took a cane that was leaning against the wall and slammed it against the floor. Everyone snapped to attention. “Pidge?” she called to the group. 

A hand shot up behind the shoulder of a girl at one of the ballet bars. Hesitant, Keith ambled over to the person hidden by their obvious taller classmate, coming across probably the shortest person in the room. They were dressed in a black leotard, like the girls, but black tights, like the boys, finishing it off with pink pointe shoes; their dark honey colored hair was tied up in a tight bun. They pushed their glasses up the brim of their nose as Keith came closer. “So you’re the newbie Allura was talking about,” they mused with a curious glint in their eye. “Keith, right?”

He nodded as he took a spot next to the bar in front of them. “Mhm. And you’re Pidge?”

“Yup.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“What, ballet? Eh, since I was five, I think. You?”

“This is my first day, actually.”

A harsh burst of laughter shot out of Pidge, resembling more of bark than anything. Keith glanced behind him to see the incredulous look on their face. “First day, huh? Well, newbie, I’m gonna be honest: it’s going to be fun watching you suck.”

Allura slammed her cane on the floor again. “Alright everyone, fifth position.” She tilted her chin up as she paced across the front of the room. “Diem-plies, diem-plies…” 

Suddenly, everyone around him began to move in unison. They placed one hand on the bar, their bodies facing sideways from it. They bent their knees, then slowly brought them back together. Keith copied them. Er, tried. He was sure he was doing something wrong, and Pidge was so kind to politely tell him so. 

“God, you’re terrible.”

Keith rolled his eyes, keeping his gaze straight on the back of the girl’s head in front of him. No one else was talking, so he whispered back, “We’re bending our knees. How bad could I possibly be doing?”

“Oh, trust me, bad. Square your shoulders, and make your sure ankles touch—no, not that way. Make sure both feet are horizontal from the bar. There, yeah. Okay, better, still bad, but better.”

Keith could feel a vein starting to rise from his neck, but as Allura called out another demi something, he actually felt like his body was… connecting. They did diem-plies (he eventually learned their name) forever, so it gave him plenty of time to perfect the move, at least by his standards. 

_Hey, this isn’t so hard._

But by God did he regret that thought.

“Alright, fondu to the front,” Allura announced.

This move was a step harder than the demi-plies, and everyone did it so fast that Keith didn’t even have time to fully grasp the concept. He mimicked them to the best of his ability: stretching his leg out to the side then pulling it back to his other leg. Then Allura said, “Good. Repeat. Fondu front, carry it out, then fondu to the side and plie.”

Ah! Plie, he got that part—that was just bending your knee. He stretched his leg to the side out and bent his knee, then brought it back. Okay, okay, he can do this.  
Now Allura started speaking faster, throwing out moves that branched off from the moves he already did. 

“—fondu, brush it back, carry the—”

“—single ronde de jambe, repeat, double ronde—”

Keith tried frantically to keep up, mimicking the girl in front of him like his life depended on it. But as hard as he tried, he was always a beat behind. By the time she brought up their knee and kicked outward, then brought their leg back down to the floor, Keith had just bent his knee. This same pattern continued through all of the moves Allura kept transitioning to, making him feel as though he’d been thrown into a pool without knowing out to swim. Now he was drowning. 

They finished an hour later. Class ended with everyone stretching at the bar, but Keith was so enervated from the hell he was just put through he couldn’t even stand. He clung to the bar to prevent himself from falling to his knees, sweat dripping from every pore. God, people did this for a living? This was torture in tights.

When everyone left, Allura and Pidge lingered by his side. “Miss Allura, I think you killed him,” Pidge commented.

Allura snickered. “Oh, he’s fine.”

Keith groaned in protest. 

Allura clucked her tongue. “Actually, I take that back.” She bent down and helped him onto his feet, giving him a shoulder to cling to until they reached the wall where his bags lay. He sunk down to the ground and breathed in hard, then shot a glare up at Allura. “Oh yeah, I’m a natural.”

Allura smiled softly. “It’s going to take time. Tomorrow, I’ll help you before class starts to give you a little more leverage. For now, go get cleaned up. Pidge, can you help him find his dorm? I believe it’s in the same building as yours. I’ve got another class to teach.” 

Pidge groaned, then nodded respectively. When Allura left, Pidge took up one of his bags and lead him down the hall. “So, your friends with Allura? Makes sense. I was wondering how you got into this class.”

Pidge’s annoyance fueled Keith enough to walk a little straighter. He adjusted his other pack on his back as they passed under one of the many archways leading to the adjacent corridor. “Yeah, it was either this or military school, so…”

“Military school? Damn. What’d you do?” 

Keith bit the inside of his cheek. “Can we just find my dorm please?”

“That bad, huh?”

Keith ignored them. They both ventured deeper into the Academy, but along the way, they passed a classroom packed with students, their teacher being none other than Allura. Keith ogled at them. Compared to the kids he was just with, these dancers looked like gods. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s Allura’s advanced class,” Pidge mentioned as they glanced inside. “These guys are hardcore.”

Keith continued to gawk, craning his neck around the doorway to get a better look at the group. They all fit a certain type of built, all lean and tall and the picture of grace. Each dancer was stunning… But one’s beauty outranked the others by an immeasurable amount.

In the front of the room was a boy with rich brown skin and short brown hair, his facial features sharp as knives; there wasn’t an inch of his body that lacked definition, from his broad shoulders to the very tip of his toes. He was doing a move that required the dancers to throw their leg high over their head while they balanced on their toes on the other. Keith’s face flushed as he watched the boy easily do so. 

Pidge nudged him, giving him a smug smile once he turned to face them. “That’s Lance McClain,” they said. 

“Who?”

“The boy you’re ogling at.”

Warmth flared across Keith’s cheeks. 

“No shame, really,” Pidge said as they looked back into the room. “He’s by far the most popular guy at the school. Adored by girls _and_ boys. He’s been Allura’s star pupil for years now.”

_Lance, huh?_

Awing, Keith leaned forward some. As beautiful as this boy was, he also seemed… familiar. 

“Okay, let’s pick up where we left off,” Allura announced. “Everyone, positions. Lance, you’ll be accompanying Nyma today.” 

Everyone parted from the bars and went to the center of the room. They each took a position on the floor. Lance stood in the front of the group, right next to some blond girl who Keith assumed was Nyma. Allura played with her phone a moment, then put on a piano song with a peppy melody. She began chanting numbers, “A five, six, seven, eight…”

The dancers behind Lance and Nyma all danced in couples, but were in perfect unison with each couple around them. It was clear that they were only there to highlight Lance and Nyma’s performance. Nyma pranced across the front of the floor, then jumped into Lance’s arms, who lifted her so easily into the air Keith was convinced she weighed no more than a feather. But as the performance went on, it was clear that Nyma was the star of the show, and Lance was simply her groupie. 

“Boys are there to support the girl,” Pidge commented. “Yeah, I see the look on your face. Allura’s famous for putting on shows that highlight both boys and girls, but right now they’re practicing for the show _Cinderella_ , and, well, guess who’s the star. I’ll give you a hint: it’s not the prince.” 

“But Lance is so good…”

“Oh trust me, I know. He’s our best dancer here. He was on practically on pointe at the age of twelve. Most boys at the age of twenty aren’t even on pointe. Allura has been training specifically him for _years_. They’ve both been away dancing in New York for the last five years, doing shows, training, but for some reason, they decided to come back here.” 

_… Five years? New York…_

Wait. 

_“Who’s the kid you’re here to recruit?” he remembered Shiro asking Allura the night of the Nutcracker._

_Lights dimmed. Curtain drawn. Allura smiled. “Trust me, you’ll know when you see him.”_

Realization hit Keith. _Hard_. 

_Oh my God. He’s—_

Lance jumped across stage, doing a split in freakin’ midair. He landed lightly on his feet at the left of the floor, right in Keith’s line of vision. Lance looked up, giving him a flash of those infamous bright blue eyes. 

_The Nutcracker._

The routine ended with Lance and Nyma side by side, their arms stretched out to the audience, AKA Allura. Keith was speechless, breathless at the performance he was given a chance to see. 

_Like Halley’s comet._

And just when Keith thought he couldn’t get enough, Lance’s gaze met his.

And he _winked_. 

Warmth flooded the entirely of Keith’s body. He couldn’t move, think, _breath_ —

“Okay, you’re malfunctioning,” Pidge noticed. “Let’s go.” They took his elbow and guided him away from the door. Keith was too disarrayed to protest. That was him, the boy he saw all those years ago. He was here, in this school, the _same_ school Keith was in…. Holy _shi_ — 

As these thoughts whirled around in his head, he hadn’t noticed that Pidge had stopped him in front of a door. “Here, your dorm.” They frowned at him. “What’s with you? It’s like you saw a ghost.” 

_Feels like it too_. “I… I saw Lance in a performance a long, long time ago. Thought I’d never see him again.”

“How long ago?”

“Um, four, five years? My brother Shiro took me when I was twelve, so—”

Pidge raised up a hand. “Wait, _Shiro_? Like, Takashi Shiro?

“Uh, yeah.”

A wide grin spread across Pidge’s face. “Your brother is Takashi Shiro? The star of the Garrison flight school?”

Keith wouldn’t exactly call him a star… Wait— “How did you know that?”

“Dude, my brother Matt goes there too. He talks about him _constantly_.” Pidge pursed their lips, contemplating. Finally, they said, “Alright, I’ve decided to help you.” Pidge threw Keith’s bag at him, and given how sore his arms were for being raised in the air while doing ballet, he grimaced as he caught it. “Help me with what?” 

Pidge smirked. “I’m going to take you under my wing. Operation ‘Meet Lance after Five Years of Obvious Pining,’ or as I’ll call it, MALFYOP, is a go.”

“Okay, what are you _talking_ about?”

“Look, you’re the brother of Shiro Takashi. If Matt knew I wasn’t helping you to the best of my ability, then I’d never hear the end of it. So, I’m going to, whether you like it or not. Meet me in the dining hall in an hour, got it?”

Keith’s mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. Was Pidge serious? Oh God, they were. They were completely and undoubtedly on board with getting them together. Keith opened his mouth to object, but… he couldn’t. He’s been searching for this boy for years, and now that he found him, he’s just going to slink by and hope he notices him? No, not happening. Pidge was right, he has been pining, and if they’re willing to help him, then damn right he was going to take it. 

So, Keith nodded. 

Pidge grinned. “Awesome. Like I said, dining hall, one hour.” They started down the hall, but they didn’t get far. Pidge turned around, frowning. “You don’t know where the dining hall is, do you?”

Keith’s mouth formed a thin line. He shook his head tightly.

Pidge sighed. “I’ll stop by later. Dress. Decently.”

 

“That’s not decently,” Pidge commented, pointing to his sweats and T-shirt. Keith glared.

Just a few minutes earlier, Pidge had escorted Keith down seventy thousand flights of stairs until they reached Altea Academy’s dining hall. The first thing they did was grab food from the school’s expansive buffet of greens and protein and fiber and took a seat at one of the tables. 

Now, Keith hid behind the stack of kale he’d loaded onto his plate as he scanned the room for Lance. Pidge scoffed. “Relax, I’ve got this covered. You just sit there and try not to look stupid.”

Keith hated admitted it, but he was already getting used to Pidge’s quips.  
“Hey guys.”

Keith glanced up to see a man so large that he blocked the sun from the windows behind him. Pidge nodded at him and gestured to the seat next to them. “Hey Hunk, this is Keith. He’s new here.”

Hunk took a seat with his tray and stretched a meaty hand across the table. “Hey, buddy. Nice to meet you.”

Keith returned the pleasantries. “Oh, you too. Are you a student here?” 

Hunk let out a thunderous laugh that made Keith jump. “Oh, oh that’s rich. He asked so seriously, too! Dude, do I _look_ like a ballet dancer?”

Keith shrugged. “I mean, yeah.” He used his fork to stab at the chicken cutlet on his plate. “I don’t see what built has to do with.” 

This drew a smile from Hunk. “Man, you really are new. Built has _everything_ to do with ballet, Keith. Ballet is all about appearance, but don’t fret, it was never my dream to be a dancer; it was my dream to _decorate_ dancers. I’m one of the costume designers here.” 

“And a damn good one at that,” Pidge said. “Hunk, get this. Keith here is Shiro’s brother.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really. He’s also got a thing for—”

“Okay, you don’t need to tell everyone,” Keith muttered under his breath.

Hunk smiled. “Let me guess. Is it Lance?”

“How did—”

“Everyone has a thing for Lance.”

“And speak of the devil,” Pidge said, pointing a finger behind Keith. Heart stopping, Keith followed their finger. 

Lance was dressed in a loose sweater that hung over his black tights. He wore blue leg warmers, as well, making Keith wonder whether he should buy a pair, considering everyone else had some. He had his back turned to him as he collected food from the food bar. Keith turned back around and sunk in his seat, hiding the side of his face with a sweaty hand. “Y—you know, Pidge, I—it’s fine if I don’t meet him. Really. Just seeing him again has been—”

“Hey, Lance!” Pidge yelled from across the room. 

Keith swore he was about to have a stroke. “Pidge! What are you doing?!”

“Relax, we’re actually friends with mister ballet super star. Just be cool.”

“But—” Keith cut himself off as he saw Lance approach from the corner of his eye. He turned his head to face him fully, catching the words sprawled across his sweater in bold black print: _Meet me at the (ballet) bar._

Pidge smiled devilishly. “Lance, I want you to meet Keith. He just joined my class.”

Keith held his breath as he met Lance’s eyes once more. Lance blinked at him, taking him in, then a cocky grin formed on his face. “Oh, _you’re_ the one who was watching me dance earlier.”

Keith blushed so hard he was sure the skin on his face would melt off. He began to splutter. “Um, I, well—”

“No, no. No need to be embarrassed. I can definitely see the appeal." He waggled his eyebrows and leaned in some. "If you want, I can give you an autograph. I’m sure it’ll be worth _tons_ someday.”

P.J. rolled their eyes. “Can you shut up and sit down?” 

Pouting, Lance slid in the seat next to Keith. “So, first day huh? Congrats on making it in. Where did you train previously?” 

Keith took a moment to just… stare. He had to take in the fact that he was having a conversation with the boy he’d been daydreaming about for years. But… ‘I can give you an autograph.’ Really?

_Relax. He’s obviously proud of his abilities, as he should be. Confidence is good, right?_

Clearing his throat, Keith shifted in his seat to face him better. “Well, actually, this isn’t just my first day at the academy; it’s my first day doing ballet.” 

Lance’s face went expressionless. A couple of uncomfortable minutes of silence passed before he said, “Excuse me?” 

“Yeah, Allura’s a family friend of mine, sort of, so she pulled some strings.”

Lance furrowed his brow. “Was she high?”

“Lance,” Hunk warned.

“No, no no, listen.” He pointed a finger at Keith, resembling some of the many professors at Keith’s old school when scolding him. “I don’t know who you think you are, but people work hours on end to train for auditions to get into this Academy. They invest years and years of hard work and blood and sweat and injuries to ensure they’re good enough for this school, and sometimes, they don’t even make it in. They don’t just waltz in after _eventually_ deciding to do ballet.” 

Taken aback, Keith’s mouth dropped. “I wasn’t—”

“You think ballet is easy? Something you can pick up after a couple of months of practice?” he demanded. 

“No, I—”

“You’re what, sixteen? Seventeen? You do realize that’s way too old for ballet, right?”

“That’s not what Allura said,” Keith countered, finally able to get a word in. This conversation was spiraling way out of control. “Look, I’m only here because Allura believes I’m good enough, and I certainly don’t need your stamp of approval.”

“Oh, Allura said that, did she?” Lance rose to his seat, storming off before Keith had the chance to say anything.

He could feel his blood pressure rising. Keith clenched his fists. “You didn’t tell me he was an ass...." he mumbled to Pidge.

“He’s not an ass,” Pidge replied. “He may be arrogant, egotistical… _loud_ —”

“He’s just… very passionate about ballet,” Hunk offered. He flashed him a small smile. “He’s a good guy, really. You just have to get to know him.”

“Well he obviously doesn’t want to get to know me….” God, Keith couldn’t believe that just happened. To be fair, Lance did have a point. Keith had gotten a free pass, this was true, but he needed to assure him that he wasn’t going to waste it. 

Before Pidge or Hunk could stop him, Keith followed Lance out of the dining hall. He’d made it down the hall, but stopped as he heard Lance’s voice, followed by Allura’s.

“You seriously let someone with _no_ experience into this school?” Lance shouted, voice echoing through the halls. “Please tell me you’re kidding.” 

Hesitant, Keith peeked around the corner. Lance stood in front of Allura, hands waving frantically in the air. Allura kept a calm, steady front, like she handled this all the time. “Lance, he needed my help.”

“So do a bunch of other kids! Maybe like the ones who can’t afford to go here? The ones far more talented than Mr. Mullet will ever be!”

Keith tugged a strand of his hair. _Mullet…?_

“He doesn’t belong here, Allura, and you know it.” 

Seething, Keith started down the hall, hearing enough. Lance doesn’t think he belongs here, huh? Well, Keith would just have to prove him wrong. 

And trust him. He did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh, this was a hard one to write, but I'm happy with how it turned out. This has been so much fun and I'm super excited to continue this saga. Hope you all enjoyed it! Comments and criticism are always appreciated!
> 
> ALSO, check out this masterful piece of fan-art by Emuyh: http://emuyh-art.tumblr.com/post/155639862652/the-boy-and-his-nutcracker-from-renommus-fic
> 
> (P.S. It's of the winking scene ;D)


	4. Ballet Brain

When first introduced to ballet, Keith was enchanted with its beauty. The music, the dancers—how _effortless_ and _easy_ everything played out on stage, like magic. But he’d been an outsider looking in. An observer. Not only was he ignorant of the taxing efforts put into a performance, but how much strength and dedication it takes to be good enough _to_ perform. 

_Beep… beep…beep…_

Groaning, Keith swatted at the incessant sound of his phone alarm, causing it to drop from his side table to the floor. He let out a louder, more guttural groan as he dragged himself out of bed to turn it off. Waking up was always the worst part of his day, especially considering what his days now consist of. 

Yawning, Keith stretched his arms over his head, then let them fall to his sides. He squinted at the clock showing on his phone’s screen: 4:08. _God._

He rubbed his eyes, then stared at his bed. He’d been getting up this early for days, just to get a head start on training, but… _sleep_ …

 _Hey, you’ve been working hard_ , the devil on his shoulder coaxed. _It wouldn’t be a crime to sleep in for once, right?_

Keith swayed on his feet, tempted. His bed _did_ look inviting: soft, warm sheets, fluffed perfectly round pillows… Jeez, it was like porn. Biting his lip, Keith took a step in the direction of what would soon be his ticket to dreamland, but as he did so, he caught a glimpse of something, something red.

On his nightstand, his program of the Nutcracker lay. Keith tensed. He’d placed it there while unpacking his first night in his dorm; it was a reminder. A reminder of what? A reminder to prove Lance _wrong_ , that’s what. A slow burn rose in Keith’s chest at the memory of Lance’s words, and suddenly, his bed wasn’t paradise anymore. It was a setback. 

Five minutes later, Keith was dressed and out the door, off to start his morning routine, the same routine he’s been doing for the past three months. 

Yes, Keith’s life now revolved around ballet, ballet, and _more_ ballet. Even when he wasn’t doing ballet, he was training and prepping to better himself _for_ ballet. Going to the academy’s training room, learning stretches, eating per Allura’s dieting instructions. He hadn’t left the academy in what felt like years, but honestly? There was no need to. Everything he needed was right inside this building, and he’d be damned if Lance caught him doing anything but proving how much he deserved to be here. Fortunately, that was never the case, mainly because he rarely saw him. 

Over these past three months, Keith had only caught glimpses of Lance. They’d cross paths in the dining hall, but that was about it. It was like Lance had made it his mission to avoid him. Of course, that only drove Keith to want to practice more. He wanted to be so good Lance won’t have a choice _but_ to notice him. But despite how hard Keith's worked, that was going to take time. These past months, he’s learned a lot, but not nearly enough to call himself good.

Keith’s schedule had hardly wavered since first going over it with Allura the following day he’d met Lance: From 4:30am to 6:00am, gym, needing to strengthen the whole of his body to perform the way he wanted to, but he did occasionally switch the gym for Pilates. From 7:00am to 9:00am, classes (no, not the ballet kind, even though Keith did tend to stretch his legs out when the teacher wasn’t looking). Then, from 10:00am to 1:00pm, ballet (thank God). 

Afterward, Keith tended to stay back and practice some more until dinner. After dinner, Allura and he would get together and practice even more. But in these extra sessions, Keith had finally managed to catch up to his classmates. Well, on some level. He knew most of the moves that they were performing. Now he just needed to perfect them. 

“Alright, class dismissed,” Keith’s professor announced. 

Sighing in relief, Keith grabbed his dance bag and hurried along the halls until he reached the studio. (After months of coming across dead ends, he’d made it a point of searing the map of the school into his memory.) By the time he got changed, Pidge was already near the bar, stretching. 

“Show off,” Keith said with a smirk as Pidge went into a split.

Pidge returned the smile as they leaned forward to touch their toe. “It’s just a stretch.”

“It's showing off, is what it is." 

Pidge shot him grin, a hint of amusement in their eyes. “Hey, at the rate you’re going, you’ll be able to do the same stretch in no time.”

Keith scoffed as he propped his leg on the ballet bar. Internally, he applauded himself. Just a couple of months ago, he couldn’t do that. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I mean it.” Pidge smiled up at him. “You’ve really improved. Allura was right—you are a natural.”

Blinking, Keith’s leg slipped from the ballet bar. “Were you being sarcastic?”

Pidge snickered. “You tell me.”

Keith couldn’t count how many times Pidge has done that. He could almost never tell if they were being sincere or facetious. It was usually the ladder. Grumbling, he hunkered down on  
the floor and did a butterfly stretch. “I may have improved, but I’m nowhere as good as I need to be.”

“And how good do you need to be?” Pidge asked. “Good enough to get into a company?”

Ha! Okay, maybe not _that_ good. When Pidge says “company,” they mean a ballet company. From what he knew from Allura, a ballet company was a company that hires dancers to perform for them for money—it’s when you can officially call yourself a professional ballet dancer. Keith learned rather quickly that everyone enrolled in this school was fighting tooth and nail to be good enough to get into one. Well, except for Keith.

“No,” he answered honestly. “I just want…”

— _he doesn’t belong here!_ —

Cringing, Keith shook his head. “Never mind.”

Just then, the door to the studio burst open. Allura waltz in wearing yoga pants and a purple athletic top. She waved to the group as she pulled her hair in a ponytail, then plucked the hair tie hanging from between her teeth, not bothering with the bun today. “Sorry, sorry, I know I’m late, but I’ve come to deliver exciting news for you all.” She gestured everyone over to the front. “As you know, show season is approaching.”

Keith nudged Pidge. “What’s show season?”

“It’s when the advanced class goes around and performs at different events and stuff, like festivals,” Pidge whispered back. “Venues pay the academy to see them perform. Brings in a good chunk of the school’s cash.”

“But this year, a brilliant thought hit me,” Allura went on. “You’ve all worked really hard this past season, and I know for certain that _all of you_ ”—she winked at Keith—“will be moving on to the advanced class next year, but I had an idea. I want to give you all the opportunity to audition for a part in one of the showcases we’ll be performing.”

Excited gasps and murmurs surfaced from the group. Keith’s eyes widened. 

Pidge shot their hand up in the air. “For what show?” they asked.

Allura smiled. “It’s an original of mine, one I’m very excited for you all to see. But I’m going to need two dancers. One boy and one girl. This showcase will be shown at the end of the month, so auditions for the parts will be held two weeks from now. I want all of you to bare that in mind during these upcoming classes. Work hard, but don’t overdo it. You are all fully capable of getting the parts; I wouldn’t want you to injure yourself over a show you all will eventually perform.” Allura clapped her hands together “Now, everyone, we’re doing split classes today. Boys, left of the room, girl’s, right.”

“Are you going to try out?” Keith hurried to ask Pidge as everyone else separated. 

Pidge scoffed. “Are you kidding?” 

“Which part are you going to try out for, the boy or the girl’s?” 

Since there was no rule that a ballet dancer must stick with their gender, Allura let Pidge shift roles when Pidge wanted to learn something the boys were being taught, and vice versa. Pidge winked at him. “Girl’s. If I tried out for the boy’s role, I’d probably steal that part right out from under you.” 

“You think I can get it? It’s for the _advanced_ class.” 

Pidge shrugged. “You won’t know if you don’t try.” They stretched an arm over their head. “Besides, I like a challenge. Training with the boys is just _way_ too easy.”

Keith’s mouth actually dropped. “Take it back,” he cried as a grin formed on his face. He chased Pidge across the room. “Take it back!” 

After class that day, Keith skipped dinner. He stayed behind and practiced some more in the studio, studying his form in the mirrors surrounding him, checking his posture, pulling his stomach taut when going in for a jump across the floor. That’s right, jump. Earlier, when Pidge made that jab about guys having it easier, it was one of the rare moments that he could tell they were kidding. These past few months, he’s learned plenty of ballet, but the most jarring thing he picked up was the difference in training between male and female dancers. The boys trained to be strong enough to accompany the girls. They focused on the height of their jumps, while the girl’s focused on doing pointe, something Keith had talked to Allura about earlier on.

“You said you could get me on pointe,” he had stated to her one day, “but—”

“I can,” she’d responded. “I’m that good.”

“But guys don’t do pointe in performances.”

Allura had smiled. “I never said they did. I said I can get you to the point in your dance career where you’re physically able to do what the girls do. When I accomplish that, then my job is done.”

“But Lance can already—”

“Lance still has a lot to learn,” she’d interrupted. “He’s cocky, and a bit of a showoff, but I assure you, if he was ready to be a professional, he’d be in a company right now, not in class.” She draped an arm over his shoulder, winking. “Don’t sell yourself short, Keith. Trust me, you’ll get there.” 

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Keith breathed in deep and continued to practice. It wasn’t until he heard the door open that he stopped. 

Pidge came in, rubbing their eyes. “Keith?” They squinted at him. “It’s like twelve…. Are you practicing?” They didn’t give him time to respond. “Dude, Allura meant it when she said to take the weekend off. As hard as you’ve been working, at this rate, you’re going to crack.”

“No, I’m not,” he said defensively. 

“Uh, yeah, you are. Look, taking a couple of days off isn’t going to make you lose momentum, I swear. If anything, it’ll rejuvenate you. When’s the last time you went out and had some fun? Hell, when’s the last time went outside?” 

Keith scratched his nose. “Um, when did I start classes?”

Pidge shrugged. “I dunno. January?”

Keith nodded. “Then, yeah, about then.”

Pidge’s face blanked. They stared, and stared… and stared…

“What?” Keith eventually snapped.

Covering their mouth with their hand, Pidge let out a small snort of disbelief. “Okay, Keith, this weekend? You are banned from doing ballet. You hear me? _Banned_. You’re coming out with me and Hunk.”

Banned from ballet? Yeah right. “Pidge, I’m not—”

“I mean it, Kogane!” they snapped. “Tomorrow, we’re going out. Now get out of here!” They shooed him away from the bar until they both were out the door. 

“Okay, okay!” Keith put his hands up in surrender. “God, fine! Can I at least stop by the training room first?”

“What do you need in the training room?”

“An ice bath.”

Pidge's eyes widened in what Keith believed to be appall. “Seriously? You’ve been taking _ice baths_?” 

Keith nodded. Why did they seem so surprised? He thought every dancer took them. 

Pidge sighed in defeat. “Yeah, whatever. Just meet me in the dining hall at one tomorrow. That’s right, _one_. I’m ordering you to sleep in too.” 

Keith chuckled. “You know, if this whole ballet thing doesn’t work out, you could always be a drill sergeant.” 

Pidge laughed. “Please, I’ll be a ballet teacher if anything. Drill Sergeants got nothing on them.” 

 

Ten minutes later, Keith waltz into the training room wearing his red running shorts and a towel draped over his shoulders. The training room was where all of the dancers go to get checked out by the school’s own physical trainer to access injuries. Along with that, they also supply benefits to help ballet dancers _prevent_ injuries. At this time of night, no one was around, so Keith started to fill up the metallic tub next to the trainer’s desk instead of the one behind the privacy curtain. He started for the ice machine when a familiar voice said, “The machine’s broken.”

Keith gasped. _Is that…?_ Slowly, he slinked across the room and pulled back the curtain. There, Lance sat in the metallic tub, his body covered in ice-filled water from collarbone down. 

Keith stared at him, slack-jawed. He’s been here this whole time? 

“You’re here for an ice bath, right?” Lance asked. 

Slowly, Keith nodded. “What are you doing here?”

Lance raised an eyebrow, then gestured to his bath. “It’s quiet this time of night. Well, it _was_.” He nodded at the ice machine. “But I could only get this much out of it.” He gestured to the layer of ice cubes on the surface of the tub’s water, which honestly wasn’t much. 

Keith’s jaw clenched. Of course _he’d_ be the one to refuse him a much needed ice bath. “Got it. I’ll just—”

“Don’t be weird, just get in.” 

Keith froze. Did he just say…?

Lance rolled his eyes. “Relax, I’ve got on shorts. Come on.” He laid on a smirk. “Or are you not serious enough of a dancer to suck it up and bath with a dude?” 

God, the way he _phrased_ that… But his blatant comment questioning Keith’s dedication struck more than just a nerve. He pushed away all feelings of embarrassment and—without a word—dunked his body in the other side of the tub, the air from his lungs fleeting as soon as his skin contacted the icy water. The cold was so ruthless it burned, and it took the whole of Keith’s strength to refrain from letting out a yelp, to show weakness, while Lance sat there completely idle and undeterred. 

Silence hung between them as Keith gripped the sides of the tub, taking slow, calming breaths, careful to not let their legs touch. He didn’t dare take a chance to look at Lance, knowing there must be some form of smugness to his expression. 

“You’ll go numb in a minute,” Lance commented.

“I know,” Keith grumbled. “I’ve taken an ice bath before.”

“Oh really?”

“Of course really!” He took the opportunity to shoot Lance a scowl. “What else do you think I’ve been doing these past few months? Sitting on my ass?”

Lance clucked his tongue, his glimmering blue eyes looking distance. “I don’t know. I don’t generally think about you.”

A stab of pain punctured Keith’s heart. He sunk further in the bath, already starting to go numb. “R—right. I didn’t mean it like—” He cut himself off. There was no way to save this. “Whatever. Never mind….”

They grew silent once more, and Keith wished more than anything that Lance would just _leave_. He got it, he wasn’t interested. Whatever. He—

“So,” Lance suddenly said. “I heard that your class is auditioning to be in our showcase. Think you’ll get the part?”

Was this a trick question? “I… I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Like you said, it takes years to be good, and I’m… _not_ , so…”

Sighing, Lance rested his head back against the tub. “Look, I may have overreacted, you know, back then….” 

Keith eyed him. 

“But you do see where I’m coming from, right?” 

Keith rolled his eyes. Duh! Maybe if he hadn’t run off that day, he would have had time to tell him this. Keith would have loved to share this with him now, but it seemed like he was trying to make amends, and that was the last thing Keith wanted to disrupt. Instead, he nodded. 

“Good,” Lance concluded. He let out a breath, then squinted at Keith. “So, what made you decide to do ballet this late in the game anyway?” 

“Allura didn’t tell you?”

Lance sunk deeper into the tub until his chin dipped into the water. He closed his eyes. “Nope.”

Keith sighed. “I got kicked out of my old school. It was either this or military school, so…”

Lance’s eyes shot open. He opened his mouth to speak, but forgot how low his head was positioned in the tub, causing water to spill right into his mouth. When he was done choking, he managed, “And you picked _ballet_?”

“Of course,” Keith said simply. “Ballet is beautiful.”

Lance stared at him, as though he was expecting for him to take back that comment. But Keith kept his gaze steady. He meant what he said, and he dared Lance to mock him for it. 

But he didn’t.

“You’re right,” he answered softly, eyes shimmering. “Ballet is beautiful.”

Keith sucked in a breath. For some unknown reason, he suddenly had the urge to tell Lance right there and then about the night he saw him perform, how _he_ was the one that inspired him to take up ballet, but… Well, they were in a _tub_ together. He refused to make the situation more awkward than it already was.

Suddenly, an alarm went off. Lance reached an arm over the tub to silence the one on his phone. “Ah, well, time’s up.” Without warning, he lifted himself on his feet, the ice cubes drifting in the water parting for him like the ballet stage’s curtain, revealing a body that Keith could have sworn was carved by God themself. 

Lance wrung out his blue shorts, then stepped out of the tub. “Well, hasta la later, Mullet,” he said with a smile. “Looking forward to seeing you audition.”

When Lance left, Keith dunked his head underneath the water, eternally grateful that the ice had numbed his lower half long ago. 

 

The next day, Keith met up with Pidge, as demanded, in the dining hall. 

“So where are you taking me?” he asked as Pidge led him out of the academy, and to his annoyance, he didn’t hear a response until reaching a car parked at the bottom of the hill the school was on top of. 

Pidge stole shotgun, so Keith didn’t notice Hunk at the wheel until he was buckled into the back seat. Hunk glanced at him through the rear view mirror and smiled. “Hey man! You coming with us?”

“Apparently.”

Pidge grinned. “Onwards!” 

Twenty minutes later, Pidge and Hunk were leading him into a four-story apartment building and gestured him through a door at the end of the hall on the first floor.

Keith immediately stiffened.

Inside, music pulsed and bodies bustled around the one bedroom apartment, each holding red plastic cups and wearing wide, buzzed lopsided grins on their face. Some were even dancing. Not ballet, of course. 

“You brought me to a party?” Keith hissed. 

Pidge bobbed their head. “Mhm.” They must have noticed how uncomfortable Keith’s stance was. “Hey, I’m not a party person either, but Hunk’s girlfriend’s throwing it, and trust me, this is just a lowkey thing. You’re going to have fun, I promise.”

While Keith was still concerned with how the events of tonight were going to go, he was far more interested in the first part of Pidge’s sentence. “You have a girlfriend?” he asked Hunk. 

Hunk lit up like a Christmas tree. “Yup! Her name’s Shay. She’s training to be a dance teacher at Altea. Wants to teach the kids contemporary.” 

Contemporary? “They teach other styles of dance at the academy?” 

Hunk’s jaw dropped slightly. He turned to Pidge. “Oh, you weren’t kidding—he’s definitely got ballet brain.”

To Keith, that sounded more of a compliment than anything. Then Pidge gasped.

“Oh, score!” They took Keith’s arm and dragged him over to a table covered in cards and chips. Three people were playing some card game, but when they saw Pidge approach, they gasped, dropped their cards, and fled the scene.

“What was that about?” Keith asked.

Pidge shrugged. “No clue.” They sat him down across the table from them. “So, Keith…” Pidge began collecting all the cards, then proceeded to shuffle them. “Do you know how to play cold hand poker? It’s poker designed for two people.” 

Hunk leaned over his shoulder, whispering. “Don’t do it, man. Pidge will destroy you.”

Pidge scoffed. “Hey, don’t plant ideas in his head! Keith could very well be an expert at poker. And besides, I’m not even that good.” 

“Um, I disagree.”

Keith turned to see a broad-shouldered woman a few inches taller than Hunk glide across the room. She greeted Hunk with a quick peck on the cheek, making him grow bright red. “Pidge, every time you come here, you scare my guests. Do you know how many times they’ve come running up asking me to get their money back?” She waved a quick hello to Keith. “It’s very nice to meet you, by the way.”

“Oh, same here.” 

Shrugging, Pidge shuffled the deck once more. “Hey, I’ve got things I want. Don’t have time for a job when I’ve got ballet. Besides, I make five times the amount here than I would making tips at some crummy restaurant. Only a hundred bucks more before I can finally afford my Zombintronics.” 

“Your what?” Keith asked. 

“It’s a robotics kit,” they explained. “It’s the best out there. Already have two, but there’s a special edition one that has ultra-specs that can amplify the caliber of batteries embedded in machines.” 

The fact that Keith had no idea what Pidge was saying clarified that there was far more to them than he first thought. “I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing.”

“Hey, as a ballet dancer, you’ve always got to have _at least_ one other interest. Because if you get injured? Or you’re simply not good enough to make a career out of it, that ‘hobby’ of yours will probably be your fallback.”

Keith swallowed hard. He couldn’t imagine getting so far only to be shot down before making it to the finish line. 

“So, Keith…” Pidge held up the cards “You in?” 

“How are you _winning_?” 

An hour later, and after three rounds of playing poker, a group of people had gathered around Pidge and Keith’s table, awing at the mountain of chips stacked right in front of Keith. 

“Keith, you’re a natural!” Shay cheered. 

Hunk slapped his back. “His poker face is unbeatable!” 

Keith pressed his lips together to keep from saying anything. In all honestly, he wasn’t even trying to form a poker face; he just didn’t know if any of the cards he was holding were good or bad. Pidge slammed their forehead against the table and groaned, then glanced at their cards again, grimacing. 

Keith chuckled. Pidge was right—he _was_ having fun. He examined his new cards, still unsure if they were good, when he caught a glimpse of none other than Lance as he made his way through the group behind Pidge and into the kitchen across the room. 

“Uh, I”—what was the term again?—“fold.” He dropped his cards and was out of his seat in no time, hearing Pidge’s victorious cheer and the sound of them throwing themselves into the chips from behind him. 

Keith ducked into the kitchen to see Lance by the assortment of alcohol on the counter, a red plastic cup in his hand. “Should dancers be having alcohol?” Keith asked as he leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms. 

Lance’s eyes darted to him, lips quirking into a smile. “I didn’t expect you to be here.” He followed Keith’s gaze to his cup, then rolled his eyes. “Relax, it’s water. Shay’s strict about drinking underage. And besides, even if it _was_ beer, it’s not like it would kill me. We are at a party, after all.” His eyes softened slightly to how rigid Keith had grown. He nudged his shoulder. “Hey, loosen up. Did the ice bath not do it for you?” 

Keith could feel his cheeks reddening at the remembrance of their little encounter, but once he realized Lance was joking, he scowled. “Ha-ha.” 

Just then, a song boomed loud and clear from the opposing room, followed by cheers and comments to turn it up. Keith didn’t recognize the song, but from everyone's reaction, he assumed it was popular. Even Lance was itching to get out there. Keith stepped away from the door to let him, but before he did so, he asked this: 

“Wanna dance?” 

Lance stared, then his lips twitched as he tried not to laugh. “Pft, well _obviously_ we’re not going to dance ballet. Haven’t you ever danced for fun?” 

“Ballet _is_ fun.” 

There was silent on Lance’s end for a moment, but then he smiled a smile Keith had never seen him make before, one that reached his eyes. “True, ballet is fun, but there’s a lot more to ballet than just learning moves. Ballet… it’s a form of expression, and to be great, you’ve got to integrate your own type of style. Something that sets you apart.” He held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go find your style.” 

To engulfed with the twinkle in Lance’s eye, Keith let himself be pulled into the next room into the sea of dancing guests. Lance led him to the middle of the floor amongst the bodies and the music and the heat, and began to do the same. 

It was jarring to see the stark difference between Lance doing ballet, a reformed, precise, _graceful_ dance, to what he was doing now. Like almost everyone else in the room, Lance was gyrating and rolling his hips, but he did it in a way that captivated Keith in more ways than one. 

“Come on!” Lance yelled over the music. He even went as far as grabbing Keith’s hips and shaking his body. “Loosen up, Mullet!” 

Keith batted his hands away. “I don’t know how to do what you’re doing!” 

“I’m not doing a routine, Keith, I’m just… dancing! Feeling the music!” 

_Feeling the music?_ All Keith could feel was the sweat starting to accumulate on his brow. Eventually, Lance just took Keith’s hands and moved him himself, making him sway back and forth. At first, Keith was reluctant, but a smile broke out on his face as Lance performed the chicken dance. 

“ _Bawk bawk_!” 

Keith chuckled. _What an idiot._ But… seeing him act so ridiculous made him comfortable enough to start dancing on his own, knowing whatever move he threw out there, Lance would look stupider. 

“Hey, there we go!” Lance beamed. 

Keith moved his hips and bobbed his head, and just… swayed with the music. They danced for what seemed like forever, and Keith didn’t mind one bit. In fact, the more they danced, the more confident he became. He was just starting to get into it when Lance raised his head past Keith’s and waved. Keith turned to see who he believed to be Nyma (hard to tell without the bun) standing near the kitchen, waving him over. 

“Be right back!” Lance said. 

Keith’s stomach fell as he watched Lance jog over to her, and continued to watch as Lance broke out into a fit of laughter over something she said. He then leaned over to whisper something into her ear. Keith’s breath hitched, and a horrifying thought struck him. 

Were they… dating? 

_What do you think, genius?_ his ugly, inner voice snapped. _They have the same class together. They’re at the same level... C’mon, look at them. Have you ever seen a cuter couple?_

_Look at yourself_ , the voice went on. _Did you really think he would fall for someone like _you_?_

Keith turned his head away, embarrassed, and possibly a little heartbroken. He broke away from the group and headed into the first empty room he could find, which happened to be the bedroom. 

_Of course_ Lance and Nyma were dating. How stupid was he? Immeasurable so, from what he could tell. 

Pacing, Keith ran his hands through his hair, breath shuddering. Well if that was the case—if they were dating—he would just have to get over it. 

If Keith was truly being honest with himself, he didn’t even _know_ Lance. For years, he's been infatuated with an image, not the actual person. Now he was projecting all of what he imagined his stunning Nutcracker to be into a complete stranger. Well, it was time to stop. Yes, Lance was beautiful, but Keith knew nothing about him! He couldn’t let himself get this riled up. This was a crush, nothing more. He needed to shift his focus on something more practical, something he could obtain. Like ballet. 

In the beginning, yes, his goal was to be a good enough dancer to prove Lance wrong, but if that was his goal, to prove to _someone else_ he was good enough, he might as well quit now. Lance wasn’t the final word—he couldn’t be. Keith decided when he was a good enough dancer, and right now? He wasn’t even close. 

Despite Pidge’s warning ringing in his years, Keith began to stretch. A few minutes later, he attempted to do a pirouette, a move that required you to spin on one foot. His execution was jerky, but it was safe to say he stuck the landing. He then started to perform the routine they were practicing in Allura’s class. Despite the size of the single bedroom, he used the furniture, the bed, the desk, to his advantage, using them as props. He did Chaines turns around the bed, then used the dresser as a stand when transitioning to the next set. He ended the routine on top of the bed, breathing in hard as he held his finishing pose. 

“Wow.” 

Keith snapped his head to the door, where Lance was standing, eyes wide. 

Keith lowered his arms. How long had he been standing there? “Um, I—” 

“You learned all of that in three months?” Lance asked softly. 

Hesitant, Keith nodded, embarrassed. "Told you I wasn’t sitting on my ass….” he managed. 

Lance nodded. He stood there for moments on end, just… watching. Finally, he crossed his arms, scrutinizing him. “How bad do you want that part? You know, for my class’s showcase," he asked. 

Keith shrugged. “Bad enough, I suppose.” 

Lance pursed his lips. “How would you feel about having me coach you?” 

... What? “Oh, Allura is already—” 

“Allura will have her hands full helping everyone else, because believe it or not, they want it just as bad as you do. But if you had _me_ as your coach… Well, let’s just say I could help.” Lance stepped toward him, shrugging. “So… what do you say?” 

Later that night, Hunk dropped Pidge and Keith off in front of the school. 

“Well,” Pidge started as they watched Hunk drive away. “Did you have fun? We kind of lost you halfway through the night.” 

Fun? Keith scoffed. 

— _So... what do you say?_ — 

“Yes,” Keith directed to Pidge, grinning. “My answer is yes.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO this past week I gained a BUNCH load of encouragement and hits for this fanfic, so I hope with this chapter I've met all of your expectations. I'll continue to do my best and I sincerely appreciate all of you readers. Thank you for the support, and as I said, I'll do my best to make sure you guys are satisfied with the story. I'm doing my best to publish every Sunday, and as always, critiques are encouraged! Happy reading!


	5. Bunhead

_He’s late._

It was seven o’ clock in the morning, and Lance was supposed to meet him here at six. Six! Grumbling, Keith stretched some more by the bar, catching a glance of himself in the mirror beside him. He’d decided to stick with sweatpants and a T-shirt, considering this wasn’t a regular class. During his months of ballet, he’d also gotten into the habit of wearing a headband. Sure, by the end of every practice, the hair behind his head splayed out in a manic display, but as long as it didn’t get in his face, all was good.

Just then, Lance came waltzing in looking as though he hadn’t a care in the world. He dropped his dance bag on the floor, took one look at Keith, and asked, “ _That’s_ what you’re wearing?”

Keith's fists shook. He stormed up and threw a hand to the clock hanging over the door. “You’re an hour late and that’s what you have to say to me?”

Lance sighed. “I know, I know, sorry about that.”

“It takes like two seconds to walk from the dorms. How—”

“I don’t live on campus,” Lance said casually as he started taking off his leg warmers. 

Keith blinked. “Oh… I thought—”

“Wrong, obviously,” Lance interrupted, only to flash him an apologetic smile. “Again, sorry. I usually get here later, so I forgot about traffic.” 

Suddenly, all of Keith’s anger drained away. God, he hated how pretty he was. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “Whatever. You gonna stretch first?”

Lance shook his head, then pulled his legs up to his chest. “Nope. I’m not the one who’s going to be dancing.” He then stretched his legs out and leaned back on his palms. “Show me the routine first. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

So, Keith did. He performed the routine Allura’s been drilling into him and his classmates’ heads for the past three days, ending in fifth position. He tried to stand as gracefully as possible as Lance scrutinized him, waiting for his commentary. Keith had his arms raised over his head for what seemed like years. Still, he refused to break posture until being told otherwise. “Well?” he growled through clenched teeth. 

Finally, he took a chance to eye Lance. He was scratching his chin, eyebrows knitted. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t concentrate on anything besides that _hair_. It’s like a rat’s nest!”

Glaring, Keith dropped his arms, and was just about to partake in a series of obscenities when Lance pulled out a hair tie from his bag and gestured him over. “Come here.”

Curious, Keith shuffled over. “Sit,” Lance demanded. 

Keith hesitated, but eventually did as he was told. He kept still until he suddenly felt Lance’s hand yank away his hairband. “Hey!”

“Chill, Mullet, if I’m going to help you, I refuse to stare at something so disheveled. Ballet is a _visual_ medium, newbie, time you learned that."

“I—” Keith cut himself off as he felt Lance’s long fingers begin to thread through his hair, causing him to shudder. He could feel a blush start to creep over his face, so he decided to distract himself with conversation. “What exactly are you doing?”

“A bun,” Lance said simply.

“You know how to do a bun?”

“I have three sisters.” 

That didn’t answer his question. “And they… also do ballet?”

Lance chuckled. “Two of them do, the other one’s a math nerd.”

“You have _three_ sisters?” 

“And two brothers.”

Keith was left speechless. He couldn’t imagine being in a family that big. His family barely had enough room for two. 

“You?” Lance asked as he smoothed back Keith’s bangs, causing him to momentarily forget how to speak. Fortunately, he recovered. “Oh, just a brother,” Keith replied. “Er, more like adopted brother.”

“Oh, he was adopted?”

“No, I was.”

Keith felt Lance’s hand freeze. “Oh,” was his only reply. Keith was sure Lance was going to move on from the subject when he, surprisingly, asked, “How old were you?”

Keith took a moment to think about it. “Not old. Um, honestly, I don’t remember much. I was a baby.”

_Liar._

Keith bit the inside of his cheek. True, but his adoption was the last thing he wanted to talk about, especially with Lance. Instead, he circumvented around what he knew would be an awkward story by saying, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“A few months ago, Pidge mentioned that you were training in New York.” 

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, why did you come back?”

For a prolonged moment, all Lance did was run his hands through Keith’s hair, and the gentle gesture made Keith zone out long enough to almost forget Lance hadn’t answered yet. Moments later, he felt his hands pull away. “Done,” he said softly.

Keith turned to the mirror and glanced at his profile. At the back of his head, the tiniest bun imaginable stood perfectly in place. Lance blew away pretend smoke from the finger gun he made. “I know, I know. Perfect, right?”

But Keith was focused on something else entirely. He looked up at Lance. “You said you don’t live on campus, so, what, do you live with your family?” 

At that, Lance frowned. “Yeah... why?” 

“Are they the reason you came back from New York?” 

Silence hung between them. Then Lance smiled, but this one was different. Of all the smiles he’d seen Lance give, Keith knew for certain this one was feigned. “Sure.”

Suddenly, Lance cleared his throat, then pointed to the other side of the room. “Alright, well, let’s get started. We don’t have all day. Start over there. First position.” 

Keith started across the room, but in the back of his mind, he knew Lance was hiding something. Sure, everyone has secrets and things they’d rather not discuss, but Lance didn’t just lie; he tried to brush off the question entirely, as though even the mentioning of New York brought upon memories he couldn’t face. No, something happened in New York, something dark. And—despite the warning signs—Keith was going to find out what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> askfjladjfk sORRY for the shortness, and the lateness. I just suck overall. ANYWAY for those that actually read this updates will probs be coming out like every two weeks or so from now on, since school started back up. Again, I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read this, and I hope you enjoy.


	6. More than moves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST AND FOREMOST I'd like to thank @wolfyraged on ao3 for giving me more insight on ballet, and "dragonflying" @ dragonflying.tumblr.com for aiding me in... just in life in general (as well as ballet. Bro you're like an encyclopedia) SO thank you both!!! Happy reading!

Lance was born to dance; Allura knew this the minute—no, the _second_ —she saw him on stage.

Five years ago, Allura had been in a very different place. She’d been teaching at Altea Dance Academy for about a year, and the injuries that had been plaguing her for the last part of her dance career were finally starting to heal. But during her healing period, she had to resort to the next best career in the dancing community: Teaching. It was her job to inspire and ensure those with the same dreams as her as a child that they can and will accomplish them. So when she heard of the talented newcomer in the town’s own smaller studio—the one children went to whose families couldn’t afford Altea—she had to see them for herself. 

The studio had managed to arrange a small performance of the Nutcracker that year in their local theater, so Allura had invited her boyfriend Shiro and his little brother to accompany her. She’d gone into that theater with high hopes. She wanted the hype surrounding this twelve-year-old dancer she’d heard so much about to be well deserved. She wanted them to surpass her expectations. And when she saw him on stage, he did just that.  
He danced with more grace and energy and compassion than she had seen in a long time. There was a maturity to his dancing, strength, and undeniable confidence. He knew what he was doing. He was performing moves that she personally hadn’t learned until the age of fourteen. And that _outfit_? Adorable! _He_ was the face of the new generation of dancers, and the second he stepped onto stage, she knew she needed him in her class.

So she went to the headmaster of Altea to discuss it. 

“What do you mean we don’t have scholarships for children?” 

The headmaster, a crusty old individual, dismissed her with a wave of his hand as he seated himself back in his office chair; it gave off a high squeal of protest. “You heard me, Allura. We don’t have enough money to scrounge up for _one_ boy. If he’s as talented as you say, then he’ll be just as talented when he’s sixteen, the age where we _do_ offer scholarships.”  
Allura couldn’t believe her ears. “Sir, with all due respect, this boy—Lance McClain—won’t know half the material we teach at Altea if he applies five years from now. He’ll be left behind!”

“And that’s my problem?” He huffed and flipped through some files on his desk. “Sorry, it can’t be done.” 

Allura clenched her hands into fists. “ _Sir_ ,” she tried not to growl. The image of Lance’s hopeful face flashed before her mind. She’d spoken to him after the show, explaining the wondrous school of Altea and all the perks that came with it. The school that could turn this hobby of his into a career. God, the excitement had exuded off him, to the point where it was palpable. He bounced up and down, his large blue eyes boggling in awe, an expression she’d seen in every face of her students. She loved that look, and the innocence behind it. At this age, kids dreamed of dancing and nothing more. They do it because it’s fun, and are blissfully unaware of the drawbacks the career choice can be, how only a tiny percentage of dancers actually make it.

“Lance McClain deserves to be here,” Allura said as she leaned over the desk. “I spoke with his parents after the show. They… they… It’s not possible for them to afford this school; it’s impossible for _any_ middle-class citizen to afford this school! The price for one class is astronomical, and you and I both know that money shouldn’t be the factor that prevents children from getting a proper education in dance.”

It was a good speech. Truly. But it wasn’t enough to change that spineless baboon’s mind. With an upturned nose, he rose slowly from his chair and placed his palms flat out on the desk, meeting her gaze directly. Without saying a word, she knew his answer. 

“Fine,” she declared. “Then I quit.”

This caught his attention. He reeled back, smirking. “Really? For a child?” He laughed, but it didn’t last long. “Fine, you were expendable anyway.”

Red flashed past Allura’s eyes, and she hauled out of there before she did anything she regretted, knocking over a glass vase positioned near the door as she went. A few hours later, she arrived at Lance’s home with a proposition, one his family instantly agreed to. Private lessons. Five times a week, four hours a day for half the price they were already paying at the studio.  
In the beginning, Allura had a brief moment of doubt that Lance wouldn’t be able to handle such a workload. But, again and again, he proved her wrong. He truly was something special, and boy, did he know it. 

A month or so passed, and she got a call from New York—they needed a part filled ASAP, and heard she was back on her feet. She was stunned. She thought her career was over. Teaching was her passion now. But… Well, there was no harm of doing _one_ show, right? She could even take Lance, let him see what a professional showcase looks like.  
So, that’s exactly what she did. It was _supposed_ to be a small weekend getaway. She had no idea that two-day trip would turn into a permanent stay.

After the show, she’d gotten an offer to teach at one of the most prestigious dance academies in New York. At first, she refused; she had Lance to think about. His career in ballet rested on her shoulders, after all. 

That’s when they offered him a free ride.

“He would have to audition, of course,” they’d said. “But if it meant having you on board…”

Lance was accepted before even finishing his audition.

Years went by, and each passing day, she had the pleasure of seeing Lance fall deeper and deeper in love with ballet. With hard work and dedication, he became one of the best in his year, and Allura—thank God—got to dance again in shows playing nearby. Things were going great, so great that Lance even got accepted early into a company. It was _supposed _to be the best experience of his life.  
But things never go according to plan, do they? __

__Now, back at Altea (under a new headmaster, thankfully), things were different, but Lance was still as beautiful of a dancer than ever._ _

__And obnoxiously cocky._ _

__“A five, six, seven, eight!”_ _

__Before her, Allura tilted her head up as she scanned her advanced class rehearsal. They were practicing the routine for a show later on in the season. For the most part, they’d nailed the routine, but there were a few tweaks she needed to fix to make it perfect._ _

__“Where are you spotting, Jenny?” she said as she paced to the left of the room, eyeing the back row of dancers. “Just because you’re in the back doesn’t mean I can’t see you. Tim, she’s not a sack of potatoes. _Lift_ her, not carry her. She’s a feather, Tim. A feather!” _ _

__Her eyes darted to the other side of the room, eyeing her front-runner. “Nyma, very nice.”_ _

__Then there was Lance._ _

__For this performance, Lance and Nyma were sharing the spotlight, rather than him accompanying her, like usual. Unfortunately, Lance’s gotten into the habit of… well, overdoing it._ _

__Nyma transitioned to a fouetté, while Lance was supposed to follow up with an assemblé, a move that requires you to land on the flats of your feet, otherwise known as fifth position. Instead, Lance went on to do a pas de chat, a flashier jump that requires more power and more pomp._ _

“ _Lance_ ,” Allura scolded under breath. 

__Every movement he made after was charged with ten times more energy than needed be. Jumps and turns and kicks were higher and faster than the standard, which, honestly, _was_ his style, but it did distract the other dancers, drawing eyes full of awe, but at the same time, envy. His executions were perfect, fluid, _easy_ , as if he picked up ballet on the fly. Allura hid her smirk. She taught him well._ _

__When they were done, and everyone was still, Allura clapped her hands. “Beautiful,” she concluded. “Class will be cut early tomorrow due to auditions for those in the class below, so I expect all of those little tweaks I pointed out to be smoothed out by Friday. That being said, the winners of the audition will be joining our class as well to start working on the opening performance of show season, and I expect everyone to treat them with respect. It wasn’t long ago that you were in the exact same position.” She stared them down, and when she knew she got her point across, waved a hand to the floor. “Circle up to stretch.” She caught Lance’s eye. “Except you.”_ _

__Nyma chuckled. “Someone’s in trouble," she sang._ _

__After shooting her a wink, Lance bounced over. “Look, I was just adding some flare to—”_ _

__“We don’t need flare.” Allura crossed her arms, brow scrunched. Then she sighed. “Lance, you know I could personally care less about whether you improvise, but the choreographers in future companies _will_. You need to learn to take instructions.” _ _

__Lance shifted, uncomfortable, and Allura sighed. “Lance, that’s in the past,” she whispered. “You don’t have to worry about the companies here. I promised you that nothing like that will ever happen again, and I meant it. Okay?”_ _

__Lowering his gaze, Lance nodded weakly. Allura’s chest constricted. There it was, that darkness that overcasts dancers once they realize the world of ballet isn’t as beautiful and polished as it appears. She hoped to shield him from it a little while longer, but that dream was lost the minute he signed that contract for the company in New York._ _

__Every so often, it seems as if he’s chased away the darkness with his uncredited energy and big headedness, but in reality, he’s just gotten better at hiding it. She reached out to him. “Lance—”_ _

__“Um, I gotta bow out early.” Lance stepped back, closer to the door. “Keith and I still have to go over a few things, so—”_ _

Allura cut him off with a wave of her hand. Did… did she hear that right? “I’m sorry… _Keith_?” 

__“Yeah. I’ve been mentoring him lately. I’m sure I told you.”_ _

Wha… _What_? Keith? He’s mentoring _Keith_? The boy he wanted to be kicked out of the school? That Keith? But suddenly, it all made sense. “Oh, so _that’s_ why he’s improved in class recently…” she whispered to herself.  


To her surprise, Lance instantly brightened. “Yeah?” he beamed. 

Taken aback, Allura smiled. “I thought you detested Keith. What was it you said? Hmm, Oh, that he didn’t _deserve_ to be here?” 

__Lance scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, well, I may have been wrong about that.”_ _

__Oh? She laid on a knowing smile. “Is that so?”_ _

__Lance nodded as he glanced at the clock. “Mhm. Anyway, can I head out? He’ll kill me if I’m late again.”_ _

__Allura was so stunned she could barely form sentences. “S—sure. Yes.”_ _

__A beat later, Lance was out the door, waving a quick goodbye to Nyma as he went. Allura watched him go, unable to stifle her smile._ _

__

“Can you maybe _not_ be late for once?” 

__Lance plopped down alongside Keith as he stretched. “Sorry,” he said cheekily, even though Keith knew he was anything but. He was wearing one of his after-workout shirts, the phrase, “May the Fourth be with you,” with the image of a ballerina in fourth position scrawled across the chest. He reached into his dance bag and pulled out a hair tie; he tossed it to Keith. “You ready to kick ass tomorrow?”_ _

__Keith took the hair tie and put his hair up in a ponytail. He knew Lance preferred everything neat and tidy, (that’s why he caved and started wearing more appropriate ballet attire to practices) but putting it into a bun took up way too much of their practice time, and—as much as he enjoyed Lance’s fingers in his hair—ballet’s what he needed to focus on._ _

__These past two weeks have been hell, but it’s been totally worth it. As ridiculous as Lance may come across, he was all business when it came to learning ballet. Well, sort of. For the most part, he was patient and considerate of the difference in their skill level. Other times, he’d call him names and boast about what he could do and what Keith couldn’t, but Keith knew that was just his way to make him try harder. Lance had a perfect balance of keeping things light but serious, something he appreciated._ _

__When he was done stretching, Lance helped him up and said, “Okay, start from the top, but do it step by step.”_ _

__Keith nodded. He did as he was told, but half-way through the routine, Lance cut in. “Relax your back, man. Jeez, the closer to auditions, the stiffer you’re getting. Jesus, here…” He took the liberty of putting one hand on the small of his back and one on his stomach. Keith breathed in deep. The first time Lance did this, he nearly lost his shit, but now Keith knew better than to think more of it. Lance’s touches were purely to correct his stance, but Keith couldn’t help how knotted his stomach got every time he did so._ _

__When he finished the routine, Lance tapped his foot. “Something’s off.”_ _

__He’s said this so many times Keith stopped paying mind to it. “Like what?” he decided to indulge._ _

__“You’re not dancing with…” He snapped his fingers. “With feeling!”_ _

“I _am_ dancing with feeling." 

__“No, you’re not. I can tell, and so will Allura.” Lance shook his head. “Okay, one more time. We can—”_ _

__Keith had half a mind to rip off his flat shoes and throw them at him. Instead, he let out growl from deep within his throat. Then he snapped. “No! You know what? Enough! I’m done! You know what’s missing in my performance? _Years of experience_ , that’s what!” He could hear his voice cracking, but he pushed on. “Lance, face it, I’m not good enough, alright? I know it, you know it—”_ _

__“Stop.” Lance drew closer. “Seriously, stop.”_ _

__Keith chuckled harshly. “Well, it’s true. I don’t even know why you worked with me for so long. A waste of time on your part…”_ _

__Suddenly, Keith could feel hands grip his shoulders. Lance made him face him, eyes set with a ferocity he’s never seen before, startling Keith. “You know what? Yeah, it’s true, your classmates have years of experience on you. But do you know what you have? _Talent_. Natural born talent! And if that isn’t enough, you’ve got more dedication than anyone I’ve ever seen. Combine the two, and you’re golden.” Lance leaned in, fire in his eyes. “I haven’t been wasting my time, because I know you can get this part.” _ _

__He pulled away, leaving Keith breathless and cold as Lance yanked his own natural warmth away. Keith swallowed hard. “W—well, then… what am I doing wrong? You said I’m lacking in… what, feeling?”_ _

__“Exactly!” Lance rifled through his bag and pulled out his phone._ _

__“But I am dancing with feeling! Or at least, I think I am…”_ _

__“Well, you’re not,” Lance said, occupied with his phone. “Dance is literally the only thing you do _without_ feeling.”_ _

__“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Keith snapped._ _

__Lance rolled his eyes. “See, right there. You’ve got a fuse as short as Pidge. It’s like you _look_ for excuses to lash out, to be angry. But you know what…” A song surfaced from Lance’s phone, the melody far too chaotic to match with the routine Keith’s been practicing. “We’re going to use that.”_ _

__“What do you mean?”_ _

__“Use that bottled up anger. You dance with precision and focus, which is good, but at times, it looks like you’re trying too hard, like you’re too focused on being perfect. Which, if you’re not me, is impossible.”_ _

__Keith rolled his eyes._ _

“So, I want you do something. I want you to lose yourself in this song”—Lance turned the volume up on his phone—“and channel whatever it is that makes you mad into your dancing. Add some flair. You remember what I said before? Dance is a form of expression, not a series of moves. So, _express_ yourself.” 

__Struggling to process this, Keith swayed on his feet, confused, and... _scared_. He’s never had to show this side of himself to anyone, including himself. What exactly does Lance mean by express himself? _ _

__The music picked up, so Keith decided to start the routine before the song ended. ‘Whatever makes you mad’? From where Keith stood, he doesn’t have a reason to be angry. Seriously, what in God’s name did he have to be mad about? He’s here at the Altea Dance Academy, tuition-free, may he add! He’s made friends, good friends. Not to mention circumventing around military school._ _

_Yeah, a school your _parents_ wanted you to go to._

Keith tensed during his next turn. His parents… They only want the best for him. They don’t really want him _gone_ … 

_You sure about that? They agreed awfully quick when you mentioned moving out…_

 _ _____Keith bit the inside of his cheek. Hard. That’s because…_ _ _ _ __

___Because?_

__Gritting his teeth, Keith pushed himself into his next half-turn, spinning wilder than he planned. He moved faster and faster, adrenaline coursing through his body. He knew what made him mad. His parents. Because, honestly? They weren’t his parents, and he wasn’t their child, not in the normal sense. No, truthfully, Keith was their access to free government checks for Shiro's education._ _

__Shiro was top priority in Keith’s family; he always has been. And Keith never questioned it. Shiro was the golden child. _He_ was going places. _He_ had potential… but you know what? So does Keith, and maybe if his parents hadn’t pushed him aside to make more room for Shiro, they could see he was more than that dirty kid from the orphanage they decided to take in, like some wounded animal, all because Shiro begged them to after befriending him on his way from middle school one day. _ _

__As grateful as Keith’s been for having Shiro by his side, he's always had this underlying resentment directed to him. Because, despite his big heart, Shiro looked at him the same way his parents did. Like he was broken, and he needed to do everything he could to pick up the pieces. Well, screw them, screw all of them! He was more than some damaged, unwanted orphan, and he refused to think any less of himself. Not anymore._ _

__Keith pushed everything he had into his last sequence of moves, his fury melting away his usual stiffness in transitions as he launched himself into the highest jump he’s ever done, only to land perfectly on his feet. Attempting to controlling his breathing, Keith ended with an arm outstretched toward Allura as she stood near the middle of the audition room, pen and notepad in her hand. “Very nice, Keith,” she replied. “Results will be posted at the end of the day.”_ _

__Wiping sweat from his brow, Keith took a quick gulp of air before collecting his stuff. He found Pidge and Hunk outside the room, and instantly, they swarmed. “How’d you do?” Pidge demanded as they gnawed on their fingernails, whole body vibrating with anxiousness. Jeez, Keith’s never seen someone so nervous._ _

__Then he saw Hunk._ _

__“Yeah, how’d you do, man?” He got right in his face, eyes wide with terror. “Did you do okay? Did you fall? Oh, please tell me you didn’t fall.”_ _

__Keith rested his hands on Hunk’s giant shoulders. “I did not fall.”_ _

__“But how did you do?” Pidge repeated._ _

__Keith sighed. “Honestly? I have no idea. You?”_ _

__Pidge lowered their head. “Same…”_ _

__Sniffling, Hunk grabbed each of them by the shoulder and squeezed. “It’s gonna be okay guys. No matter what happens, I will eventually get to dress you in my designs. God, Pidge, that green leotard I made last week? Man, that’d be perfect on you.”_ _

__Pidge sighed. “Thanks, Hunk.”_ _

__Keith bit his lip, honestly relieved for Hunk’s warmth. “So… now what?”_ _

__“Allura said she would hang up the results later today.”_ _

__Their gaze traveled to the door, then to each other. Understanding passed between them, and they silently migrated to the floor, huddling together. Hours passed. Pidge toyed with their phone, Hunk fidgeted and talked to himself, and Keith just… stared. _How long has Allura been in there?__ _

__Another hour passed, and more people from their class started to show up to wait and pace by the door. Eventually, Lance appeared, carrying two bags filled with food._ _

__“You really think we can eat right now?” Pidge asked, leg bouncing at an incredible rate._ _

__“These are for Hunk.”_ _

__“Oh, bless you.” Hunk scooped up the bags and dug in._ _

__Lance situated himself next to Keith, nudging him. “How long have you been waiting?”_ _

__“Hours.” Keith clucked his tongue “You’re not going to ask how auditions went?”_ _

__“Ha, like you’re going to give me an accurate answer. No one’s confident after an audition unless you're the one hosting it.”_ _

__“Even you?”_ _

__“Pft, no. I always get the part.”_ _

__Keith scoffed, and Lance chuckled. “Hey, don’t worry. Whatever happens, things will be okay.”_ _

__Just then, the door opened._ _

__Everyone froze as Allura taped a single sheet of paper on the back of the door, and suddenly, time slowed. As everyone around Keith lunged toward the sheet, fighting and elbowing their way to get a closer look, Pidge and Hunk included, Keith remained perfectly still._ _

__What if he’s not on the list? What if he deluded himself into thinking he could get that part? What if he wasn’t good enough? What if all that talk of being worthy of something more was just bull? What if--_ _

__Pidge screamed._ _

__That snapped Keith out of his daze. Just a few feet away, Hunk was carrying Pidge on his shoulders as Pidge raised two triumphant fists over their head. Hunk bulldozed down the hallway while Pidge hollered, “WOOOOOOOOOO!”_ _

__“Huh,” Lance said. “Wonder who got the girl’s part.”_ _

__One by one, the other girls by the door trickled away, and it wasn’t long until the boys followed. Keith watched each of their expressions as they veered down the hall, steeling himself as he prepared to see another triumphant grin. For the most part, their faces were blank, so the slightest twitch of someone’s lips sent him into panic mode._ _

__Soon, the hallway cleared, and it was him, Lance, and that damn sheet of paper. Lance’s eyes darted between them. “Well?!” He shook Keith. “ _Go check_!”_ _

__He would if he could, but Keith felt like stone. It was a miracle he got his lips moving. “I…”_ _

__Lance didn’t wait for his response. He rushed over and read the name printed on the paper. Keith’s heart was beating so fast he was sure it was going to break free from his chest. He watched Lance’s back with blood pounding in his ears, drowning out the world around him. But it wasn’t an instant later that the world seemed to crumble as Lance’s shoulders sag._ _

_No._

__Lance said something, but Keith ignored him as he pushed him away from the door so he could see the paper for himself. That’s when he truly thought the world was on fire. “Oh my God…”_ _

__He looked to Lance, who—for the first time since knowing him—had been stunned into silence. His face soon split into a disbelieving grin, and a giggle bubbled up from his throat. He turned to Keith, eyes sparkling._ _

__“Welcome to the big league, kid.”_ _

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEH... So school sucks :,D
> 
> I apologize for the lateness for those I told it'd be out on Monday. I had finished it yesterday, but knew I couldn't post without editing it to the best of my ability, which still isn't that great. SO if anyone would be interested in being my beta reader, hit me up, because I sure could use one ^^;
> 
> ANYWAY I hope you enjoy the chapter, and remember, criticism is always encouraged!


	7. The Winter Prince

_“Welcome to the big league, kid.”_

Keith still couldn’t believe it. 

“Huzzah!” Hunk shouted as he raised his glass. “To Pidge and Keith!”

Chuckling, Keith raised his glass for the toast. After coming to terms with the fact that he _actually got the part_ , and Pidge was done screaming at the reveal of also getting chosen, Lance declared it was time to celebrate, heading out to the diner down the street.  
Pidge elbowed Keith in the ribs, winking. “We did it. We really did it!”

“Yeah you did,” Hunk said with a large grin. He was sitting at the other side of the table, Lance at his side, who hadn’t stopped smiling since they left the academy. That was another reason Keith’s chest was swelling with happiness—all those hours of hard work and training had paid off. He didn’t even care about what part he got; it was the fact that, only after three months, _he _was the one chosen to be in the opening showcase of show season. And it was all thanks to Lance.__

__“Seriously, I can’t wait to see what Allura has planned for the show,” Hunk continued. “She better hurry up and fill me in soon, because I’m going to need extra time in designing your costumes.”_ _

__“Hunk, we’re not getting big parts or anything,” Pidge explained, pointing their drink’s straw at him. “We’re not really in the advanced class.”_ _

__“Hey, don’t sell yourself short!” Lance said. “Allura wouldn’t have done this if she didn’t think you two weren’t ready. As far as I’m concerned, you two are in the advanced class, so deal with it.”_ _

__Keith loved how supportive Lance could be, and it was one of the many reasons Keith believed he got the part in the first place. It was due to Lance’s unwavering faith in him that he managed to muster up the confidence he needed for the routine. But then Keith remembered something, something he’d unintentionally put on the backburner for weeks now, and that was the darkness that Lance hid inside him. It was a darkness that Keith had only caught a glimpse of, but it chilled him to know it was there, and it was brought upon by the mysterious event that happened in New York. Now that he’d gotten the part, it was time to start digging. He knew he should stay in his lane and keep to himself about it, but if something was haunting Lance, then he needed to know what._ _

__As if the universe agreed, Lance suddenly rose from his seat and pointed to the far end of the diner. “If you’ll excuse me, I must attend to the little boy’s room. And Pidge, I swear to God, if you squirt a ketchup packet into my coke again, there _will_ be consequences.”  
Once he was gone, Pidge went straight for the ketchup packets. As Pidge attended to Lance’s drink, Keith leaned in and whispered, “Hey, do any of you know why Lance came back from New York so suddenly?”_ _

__He studied both of their faces for some sort of reaction on the mentioning, but neither of them budged. Pidge was too focused on getting every last drop of ketchup into Lance’s drink. “I thought he said it was because Altea got a new headmaster,” Hunk said._ _

__“Yeah, same,” Pidge said, throwing the packet aside. “He said something about how Allura missed her hometown, and because of the new headmaster, she could get her job back since there were all these new rules.”_ _

__“And that’s it? That’s all he said?”_ _

__Hunk shrugged. “I mean, basically. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it was because he missed home, too. Lance is talented, but I’m sure he wanted to finish up school here where his family is close by.”_ _

__“But don’t you find it suspicious that he came back so suddenly?”_ _

__“Not really,” Pidge said as they sipped on their own drink. “He’s never talked about it much, but I’m willing to bet it’s because New York was just too much for him.”_ _

__“What do you mean?”_ _

__“I mean, the school he was attending was probably way too advanced for him at the time. Couldn’t handle the fact that he couldn’t catch up to those who were better than him, so he came back here.”_ _

__Oh. Keith could have slapped himself for how stupid he was. _Of course _that was it. Lance was the cockiest person he knew—and yes, he deserved to be, but just because he was great didn’t mean there weren’t better dancers out there. He wounded his pride unable to keep up with the dancers in New York, so much so that he couldn’t stand talking about it.___ _

Yeah, that’s it. That _must_ be it. 

____“Hey, speaking of families,” Hunk said, “is yours coming to the show, Pidge?”_ _ _ _

____Pidge instantly brightened. “Sure are! My mom flipped when I called her about it. Dad, too. Matt didn’t pick up, probably in training, but I know he’ll lose it when he hears.” Pidge turned to Keith. “What about you? Are you inviting Shiro?”_ _ _ _

____Oh. He hadn’t even thought about it. He could only imagine the look on Shiro’s face when told that he’ll be performing in an actual ballet show. Tutus and tights and everything. “Um, no, I don’t think so.”_ _ _ _

____“What? Why not?”_ _ _ _

____Keith fiddled with the straw in his drink, shrugging. He didn’t want to make Shiro seem unsupportive, so he said, “He and Allura used to date.”  
Hunk and Pidge’s mouths dropped. “Whoa, what?” they said in unison. _ _ _ _

____“Yup, and… well, things didn’t end that great between them. I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable by inviting him somewhere I know she’ll be.”_ _ _ _

____“Aw, that sucks,” Hunk whined._ _ _ _

____Pidge pushed their glasses farther up their nose, miffed. “But—”_ _ _ _

____Lance slid back into the booth, grinning from ear to ear. “So, what I miss? You guys talking about me?”_ _ _ _

____Pidge rolled their eyes. “Yeah, we were talking about how gross it’s gonna be having your flat ass in our face during the whole opening showcase,” Pidge deadpanned, then smirked at Lance’s soft gasp, followed by a, “How _dare_ you!”_ _ _ _

____The rest of dinner went on just like that. Laughing, teasing, bickering, food throwing, and just plain having _fun_. Keith couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy. _ _ _ _

____A little after they finished their meals, Pidge suddenly got a phone call. “Matt? Hey!” They stepped outside, and after a moment, ran back to tug at Hunk’s shirt sleeve._ _ _ _

____“Hey, sorry about this, but can you drive me home really quick? Matt’s back and he wants to see me.”_ _ _ _

____“Sure thing.” He looked to Keith. “You want a ride to the school? It’s on the way.”_ _ _ _

____“Nah, I can walk.” He waved off Hunk’s hesitancy. “Really.”_ _ _ _

____After they were gone, there was a brief moment of silence that allowed Keith the chance to look the time. Oh, wow. “Geez… it’s gotten late. I guess I should get back, too. Get some sleep. Don’t want to be tired for class tomorrow.”_ _ _ _

Lance smirked. “You mean your _advanced_ class." 

______Keith couldn’t help but smile. He really did love the sound of that._ _ _ _ _ _

______After paying their checks, Lance and Keith headed out. Lance had said beforehand that his house was on the way, so they walked side by side, taking in the gentle breeze of spring, the moon’s rays basking the street in front of them. “Hey, I never got to ask,” Lance said. “But how do you _feel_ right now?”  
Keith shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket, shrugging, but unable to hide the grin that formed just at the thought of being in the showcase coming up. “I just… can’t believe I got the part. Feels like a dream.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“But a good dream, right?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Keith met his eyes head on. “The best.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Before Keith knew it, they had reached the bottom of the mountain of steps that led up to the Academy. “Guess this is your stop,” Lance whispered. “Guess so.” But Keith wished it wasn’t. He had so much to say to Lance, and he knew that he’d lose momentum if he left now. “Um, Lance. I… I want to thank you for…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______But Lance wasn’t listening. He was staring up at the school, brow furrowed. Keith followed his gaze. From here, he could barely make out the front doors of the academy. The doors themselves had windows embedded on the front, making it possible to see the other side. And there, just behind the doors, stood a man toying with what Keith believed to be the doorknob. It wasn’t until he pulled away a pair of keys from the door that he knew what he was doing. Locking them._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh, crap!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Keith and Lance hurdled up the stairs, but by the time they got to the top, they were completely drained, and barely had enough energy to drag themselves to the door. Damn, he’d completely forgotten about the curfew. Out past twelve, and they locked you out. “Hey!” Keith banged on the doors, trying to see if he could get that man’s attention, but he was nowhere to seen._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Damn!” Keith cursed. “Now what?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______After catching his breath, Lance pointed a finger at him, grinning. “Oh young grasshopper. Thy has much to learn! Come on.”  
They circled around to the side of the building, and Lance took his sweet time examining all of the first story windows before stopping in front of one in particular. It was about a foot above them, but being how tall Lance was, he easily stretched an arm up and pushed it open, as though knowing it would be unlocked. He climbed inside, helping Keith as he did the same. _ _ _ _ _ _

______When first being helped in, straight darkness assaulted him, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to it. “How did you know this window would be open?” he whispered._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Easy,” Lance whispered back, guiding him further into the room. “I make sure it’s unlocked before I leave for home.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______That… wait, huh? “You what?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Lance paused, and suddenly, light exploded from his phone. He shined it at Keith. “Look, sometimes, late at night, I come back here to practice when things got too noisy at home.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh.” Made sense, he supposed. “Oh, right you have sibling.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Lance nodded. “And you have a brother, right?” Keith nodded. “He coming to the show?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Keith sighed. Not this again. “I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Lance lowered his phone. “What, is he not into ballet?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s… complicated…” But Keith trailed off as he followed the light of Lance’s phone. It shone on an old box filled with semi-worn down pointe shoes. Huh. Curious, Keith took Lance’s phone and shined the flashlight to each wall, realizing a second later that they were in some sort of supply closet filled with nothing but boxes packed with old ballet shoes. “What…?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Lance swept a hand to the shelves. “Yup, welcome to the toe shoe room!” He patted one of the boxes to his left. “See, every shoe in here is donated by professional ballerinas. Either they outgrew them, or it just wasn’t the right fit, so they send them here for students to use.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Made sense. “Hey, wait a second…” Keith knelt to a box near the floor, one with a pointe shoe sticking straight up from it. There was a name written in sharpie at the bottom of the shoe, one he recognized. “Whoa, is that…” Keith sat crisscross style in front of the box as he began to rifle through it. “These are all Allura’s.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“All of them?” Lance joined him on the floor. “There are tons in here…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well, she’s been dancing, forever, right?” The deeper Keith dived into the box, the smaller the pointe shoes became. She must have donated every single pair she’s ever owned, from first to last. Huh… speaking of Allura… “I still can’t believe she gave me that part,” Keith breathed.  
Lance paused. He placed the pair of pointe shoes he’d picked up and set them gently in the box. “I can,” he stated firmly. He met Keith’s stare dead on, and not once did he look away. “You _deserve_ this part. Don’t forget that.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______A furious blush blossomed onto Keith’s cheeks as he stared at Lance, and a sudden rush of adrenaline pushed him to do what he’s wanted to do since the day he first saw him. Before, he didn’t know Lance—he was infatuated with his dancing, not him, but now… after hours and hours and practices and his dedication to making him better, to help him get this part, things were different. What Lance did, that took selflessness—he didn’t have to do any of it, but he did, putting his faith and trust in him and his abilities, and Keith wanted to repay him. In more ways than one._ _ _ _ _ _

______He leaned in, narrowing the distance between them in one slow motion, lips soon inches apart…_ _ _ _ _ _

______Then the lights flipped on._ _ _ _ _ _

Now only a breath away from one another, Keith jerked back from Lance, who was staring at him wide eyed, to see Allura in the doorway, lips pressed tightly together while her hand sat precariously over the light switch. “Hello there,” she greeted. 

With the lights on, and Keith realizing just how close he’d been to Lance, he suddenly regretted every decision that’s ever led him to this point because _Jesus Christ_ what was he thinking? 

______“Uh…” Lance cleared his throat, eyeing Keith for a moment, then shook his head, as though rendering himself back into reality. “Sorry, we got locked out. Showing Keith here the ropes of sneaking in after curfew.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Okay. Okay. So Lance didn’t think anything of it. Cool. Play along. Play. Along. But all he got out was, “Uh…”_ _ _ _ _ _

_Smooth._

______Clucking her tongue, Allura drummed her fingers against the doorway. “Uh-huh. Well, Keith, why don’t you head in? I can walk Lance out.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“The door or the window?” Lance chided._ _ _ _ _ _

______Allura rolled her eyes. “Keith.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He didn’t need to be told twice. He fled the scene, refusing to look back._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

The next morning was Keith’s first advanced class practice. He was _supposed_ to feel excited, but in reality, he felt like shit. 

______“Yo, what happened to you?” Pidge asked as Keith stepped outside of his dorm. They’d gotten into the habit of meeting up and walking over to class together in the morning. Usually, Keith enjoyed their little routine, they chatted, bonded, but right now, he wanted nothing more than complete silence, given the night he just had. Keith rubbed his eyes. “Oh, nothing.”_ _ _ _ _ _

Pidge waggled their eyebrows, giving him a, _Uh-huh, sure_ , look. “Do those bags under your eyes have something to do with, oh, I dunno, _Lance_?” They drawled out his name, and Keith sighed just at the thought of him. 

______“Well, sort of.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Pidge stopped dead. “What?” They scurried in front of him, blocking him from taking another step further. “What happened?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Keith groaned, loud and exaggerated. “Nothing! It’s just… last night, after you guys left, there was… well, a moment…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“A moment,” Pidge echoed. “Well, what happened in this moment?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Keith sighed. Just rip it off. Like a band-aide. “I almost kissed Lance.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______As expected, Pidge’s jaw dropped, and their glasses slipped lower on the bridge their nose. “You—”______

 _ _ _ _ _ _“Yes, you heard me, but nothing happened because we got interrupted and thank God because it was a stupid mistake and I should never have tried and hopefully he doesn’t think anything of it so let’s just move on and focus on our parts in this show and never talk about it again, _okay_?” ______

_____ _ _ _

______Pidge just stared, slack jawed, then raised their hands in defeat. “Okay. Fine. I won’t bring it up again.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Keith glared. Pidge was lying straight through their teeth, but for right now, he’d take it. They walked the rest of the way to class in silence, finally coming across the door to the advanced class. Keith pushed it open, all thoughts of Lance fleeting as soon as he did so. Immediately, he was assaulted with what seemed to be twenty pairs of cold, calculating eyes, and Keith had never felt so exposed. He looked around for Lance, hoping to use him as a buffer, but he was nowhere to be found. Pidge grabbed his hand and hurried him over to the far corner of the room to stretch._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Why does everyone look so tall?” Pidge whispered as they settled on the floor._ _ _ _ _ _

______Keith hesitated. “Um, because you’re short?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Pidge kicked him. “You know what I mean! They’re all just so…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Intimidating?”_ _ _ _ _ _

“I was going to say terrifying, but yeah.” Pidge gasped. “Oh my God. It’s _Nyma_.” 

______Keith turned. On the other side of the room, Nyma was in fact stretching at the bar, chatting with another girl across from her. “Yeah, so?” Keith asked Pidge._ _ _ _ _ _

Pidge rolled their eyes. “Dude, she’s like, the best female ballet dancer in the academy. I heard a company already has their eyes on her. I’ve _also_ heard that she wraps her feet in cellophane before every practice to stop the blood from leaking from her pointe shoes. She’s _that_ intense.” 

______Eyes wide, Keith shuddered at the image. “B—but that’s just a rumor, right?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Pidge snorted. “Hell if I know. She’s—Oh, God she’s coming over.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______What? Keith only had a minute of internal panic before he realized she was standing right before them. With her blond hair in a perfect bun, she offered them a warm smile, one Keith couldn’t tell was genuine or not. “Hey, your names are Keith and Pidge, right?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Slowly, they nodded._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well I just wanted to personally congratulate you two on winning the competitive.” She jabbed a thumb to her classmates, then leaned in to whisper, “And hey, don’t worry about them. They may look scary, but they’re all just jealous that they weren’t given this opportunity when they were your age. Just keep your head up and act like you belong, because you _do_.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Alright everyone to the bar!” Allura ordered as she rushed through the door._ _ _ _ _ _

______Nyma winked before walking away, mouthing, “Good luck.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Keith watched her go, suddenly feeling ten times better than he had been. “She’s so nice,” he observed, unable to mask the surprise in his tone._ _ _ _ _ _

______Pidge snorted. “Yeah, well, we’ll see. Just watch out for ground glass in your dance shoes.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Keith chuckled, but stopped once looking at the look on Pidge’s face. “Wait, that’s a thing?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Allura slammed her cane down onto the floor. “Bar!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Keith and Pidge took their place in the far back, but as he did so, Keith couldn’t help but notice Lance hadn’t shown up yet. Where was he?_ _ _ _ _ _

______As if on cue, Lance hurried through the door, throwing his dance bag near the corner of the room before taking his place at the front of the bar. Allura eyed him, a warning, then addressed the rest of the class._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Today we will start practice for the routine of our first performance of show season. This show is an original of mine, and I’m very excited to share it all with you. The choreography is going to be a little less refined than most of the shows we perform, but that’s the point. The main premise of the show is this: Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring, all seasons run by Prince and Princesses, as well as their helpers, whom are all invisible to the human eye. They migrate to where they’re needed next when the seasons that follow come to take their place. Our show will focus on the Prince of Winter, and his unwavering affection for the Princess of Spring. As the seasons pass, the Winter Prince has only managed to catch a glimpse of the Princess before they must trail onwards to where winter is needed next. All he’s ever wanted was to meet her, but he knew that if he stayed in Spring, he would melt, and die. At least, that’s the rumor.” She nodded to Lance. “Lance, you will play the Prince of Winter, while Nyma will be the Princess of Spring. Everyone on the left of the room will be the helpers of the Winter Prince, and those on the right, helpers of Spring. Now, for the choreography….”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The rest of class consisted of Allura showing them the first few sequences for the opening of the show. She wasn’t kidding when she said the routine was less refined, at least in regards to the helpers of Spring. Most of the movements were fluid, like water, unlike the precise accuracy that he was used to. It was going to be a challenge to perform Allura’s vision, but one Keith was ready to take on._ _ _ _ _ _

______After class, Pidge and Keith stretched in their now reserved corner. He tried to not make it seem so obvious that he was watching Lance, but he knew he was failing on an extraordinarily level. Lance was currently surrounded by a group of his peers, laughing, smiling. Socializing was as natural to him as breathing, he’d learned, and—even though he’d never admit it—Keith wished it was like that for him too._ _ _ _ _ _

______He still can’t believe he tried to kiss him last night. That was the worst possible thing he could have done. Yes, last night, he’d come to terms that he felt more for Lance than just friendship, but that didn’t mean he should act upon it! The last thing he needed was to be distracted by a boy—the boy—who had proved from the beginning that he wasn’t interested, who was probably dating Nyma, for God’s sake! That must be the reason Allura paired them up all the time.  
Keith shook his head. He didn’t know if they were dating (he never asked Hunk or Pidge, afraid of the answer) but it shouldn’t matter. It _didn’t_ matter. He was there to dance, and that’s all there was to it. _ _ _ _ _ _

But suddenly, Lance met his gaze, and Keith’s cheeks instantly reddened. _God damn it._

______“Where are you going?” Pidge asked as Keith hurried to the door. He couldn’t even look at Lance without blushing like an idiot, without his feelings for him rising to the surface for all to see. Well, if that was the case, then he’d put as much distance between them as possible. At least until the show was over… Or graduation._ _ _ _ _ _

______For the next two weeks, Keith immersed himself in ballet, training his hardest, but also taking the time to let himself go at times, experiment with the choreography in terms of how he carried himself, to _feel_ the performance, rather than learn it, like what Lance taught him. _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Lance._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______God, the hardest part about being in the advanced class wasn’t keeping up with the other students, but trying to focus on performing when Lance was up front dancing with Nyma. They both were magic together, entrancing him every opportunity they got. And, has much as he hated saying this, he wanted nothing more than to be up there with Lance instead. But it was never long before the harshness of reality struck him, almost as hard as Pidge did when he forgot to pick them up during one of the sequences._ _ _ _ _ _

______So, due to being unable to focus on class, Keith had gotten into the habit of skipping meals again, migrating into an empty classroom to practice every chance he got. He switched the classrooms he’d practice in daily, just to make sure Pidge or Hunk couldn’t find him and drag him to the dining hall for a break that he didn’t need._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Alright, that’s enough for today,” Allura announced. “Tomorrow, make sure to get here early! Hunk’s doing fittings and we need all the time we can get with him.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Keith, like he’s been doing every day, hurried to grab his dance bag as Allura dismissed them all officially. But just as he turned toward the door, Lance stepped in his way, a small smile on his face. “Yo, bigshot, what are you doing later?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Keith gulped. Crap. He was cornered. “Uhm, what?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What are you doing later?” he repeated. “I know you’ve been practicing like mad lately. I can see it, so I’ve kept my distance. I get it, you want to be good. But you deserve a break now and then. Why don’t you, me, go out to…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______But Keith had stopped listening. Just looking at Lance reminded him of that night in the closet, the night he knew he would have been rejected. He couldn’t allow himself another opportunity alone with Lance, not now. He didn’t trust himself not to do something stupid, like, confess. No thank you, not a week before the show._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Um, tempting,” Keith started, “but I really gotta practice.” He tried to move past him, but Lance prevented him from going any farther than a step._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Dude, I’m worried about you,” he said softly, making Keith’s heart melt. “Let’s just go out, grab some food. We can even go over the choreography later if you want. Trust me, you’ll thank me when—”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No!” Keith yelled. His voice practically echoed in the confinements of the studio, drawing the attention of everyone still in class. Keith cursed, hightailing it out of there before he could make more of a fool of himself, pushing past Lance. Luckily, he didn’t follow._ _ _ _ _ _

______Later that day, Keith slinked into the first empty classroom he saw, throwing down his dance bag and letting out a loud groan of frustration. He knew he was acting like he was twelve, but he couldn’t help it! Being around Lance was just so _hard_. How do you act around someone you have feelings for, but know they won’t reciprocate them? Especially when they’re your friend? Do you stuff your feelings down, hope they go away? Or do you accept them, maybe even confess them? Get it all out of the way? _ _ _ _ _ _

_Gah!_

______You know what? Neither. Keith refused to do anything. He wanted no part in any of it. He’s going to focus on ballet, the one thing he’s good at, not this emotional crap. He had one job and one job only: his role in the show._ _ _ _ _ _

______Once warmed up, Keith went into position. Allura had not only taught him the moves of the dance sequence, but how they should be executed. Spring was warm, inviting, spry—things were blossoming, blooming, growing, living—eager to stretch out into the sun and play in the newly grown grass. Keith tried to channel all of that into his performance, but… right now, he couldn’t. He was frigid, hollow. If anything, he related more to the Winter Prince. That was a man he could resonate with. He was yearning for someone he knew he was never going to get, someone who was so close yet so far… Huh… Keith had been watching Lance diligently, so he basically knew the first part of his routine…._ _ _ _ _ _

______Biting his lip, Keith did the first few steps. They were simple to follow, and of course he’d never be able to copy Lance entirely; Lance was perfection, Keith was… not. Still, there was no harm in doing the routine. Yeah, he’d do it as a warm up. Then he’d focus on his part._ _ _ _ _ _

______But as Keith progressed at being the Winter Prince, the more he… liked it._ _ _ _ _ _

______The way he was allowed to move was just so… fitting. He was the _Winter_ Prince, a brisk, brutal force that attacked and surrounded the world with his insurmountable power every chance he got, and never apologized for it. _ _ _ _ _ _

______And when Keith ended the routine, he felt disappointed that he had to suddenly revert to a simple helper of Spring._ _ _ _ _ _

“Oh, so _that’s_ why you’ve been avoiding me.” 

______Keith snapped his head to the door. Lance was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a shit-eating grin splayed across his face. “No wonder you don’t wanna hang. You’re after my part.”_ _ _ _ _ _

… _What?_ What kind of idiotic assumption— “Lance, don’t be stupid. I was just…” 

______“Practicing my part.” Lance stepped toward him. “It’s cool, dude. It…” He puffed out a laugh. “It actually kinda suits you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Keith’s face felt like it was on fire. He turned away, glaring at the mirrored walls for reflecting just how flustered he was. “Can you just… go away? I’m practicing.”_ _ _ _ _ _

“Yeah, for _my_ part.” 

______“Lance!” Keith whirled around. “Just go, alright?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______It was then that the bemused mask Lance was wearing clattered to the floor. “What the hell is your problem lately?” he growled. “You get into the advanced class and now you think you’re some type of hot shot? Too good to hang out with your friends?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay, you know that’s not it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Then what is?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______God, what could he say? That he was slowly falling head over heels with him? That each second they were together his affection for him grew? Yeah, no thank you. “I just…” _Think think think._ “This part is really important to me… I can’t have any distractions right now.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Even your friends?”_ _ _ _ _ _

Keith sighed. “ _Especially_ my friends." 

______Silence fell between them. Finally, Lance shook his head. “Keith, look… you can’t keep doing this.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Doing what?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“ _This_. Going off on your own! Being the lone-wolf! If you’re serious about ballet—”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Which I am.”_ _ _ _ _ _

“—then you can’t keep going down this route. As a ballet dancer, we hardly leave this school. Our lives are ballet, so you know what keeps us grounded? What keeps us sane? Our friends, something that I… that I _thought_ we were….” 

____Keith looked up at Lance, surprised. “We are friends.”_ _ _ _

____Lance smiled at that. “Well, then as your friend, I’m telling you to cut the crap and stop shutting everyone out because you think that’s better for your career. Because it’s not.” Lance crossed his arms. “You hearing me?”_ _ _ _

____Keith’s lip curled involuntarily. He hated being talked to like that, especially when Lance had no idea what he was talking about. He wasn’t shutting out his friends because he was focusing on his career; he was shutting out Lance because he didn’t want to be reminded that he couldn’t have him… But, that wasn’t entirely fair, was it?_ _ _ _

____Lance sought him out. He was upset that he thought they weren’t friends. On some level, that meant he cared, and having him care for Keith… Well, maybe that was enough. “Yeah, yeah I hear you.”_ _ _ _

____“Good,” Lance declared. “Now that that’s settled, show me your routine.”_ _ _ _

____“What?”_ _ _ _

____Lance rolled his eyes. “You’re one of the helpers of Spring. They’re happy, warm, fun. Everything you’re not.”_ _ _ _

____“Ha-ha.”_ _ _ _

____“So, show me. Let’s see what we can do.”_ _ _ _

____“Lance, you’re not my teacher anymore. You don’t have to do this.”_ _ _ _

____“I know, but I want to.”_ _ _ _

____And just like that, Keith’s wall crumbled, and it was right there and then that he decided what he’d do in regards to his feelings for Lance: he’d shove them down. Because having Lance in his life, even as a friend, was a thousand times better than not having him in it at all._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____The week flew by, and before Keith knew it, it was opening night._ _ _ _

____They were performing in a theater in the next town over, which was just another reason that Keith felt uneasy about tonight. Unfamiliar grounds. That, and Nyma and Pidge weren’t there yet._ _ _ _

____Keith hadn’t noticed this until the last week of rehearsal, but Pidge had grown extremely close to Nyma in the weeks that he was off doing his own thing. No wonder Pidge hadn’t been on his ass to take a break now and then. Apparently, Nyma was not only into ballet, but also a fan of robotics… or electronics… or something in regards to bolts and nuts. Since then, Pidge had been glued to her hip ever since._ _ _ _

____And because of this, they’d decided to carpool to the theater together today. Only problem was they were nowhere to be seen._ _ _ _

____Pacing outside of the boys dressing room backstage, Keith tried calling Pidge for the what seemed like the thousandth time. Seriously, where were they? He couldn’t do this without Pidge—Pidge was his support system. Hell, where’s Allura? Does she know they’re not here yet? She must know. But then why wasn’t she here, doing… well, something?!_ _ _ _

____Just then, Lance poked his head out from the dressing room. “Keith? The show’s in an hour. We need to start getting ready.”_ _ _ _

____“Pidge isn’t here yet,” Keith interjected. “And neither is Nyma.”_ _ _ _

____Lance’s face blanched. “What?” He stepped out, eyes darting from side to side. “Well, where’s Allura? Has she said anything about what we should do?”_ _ _ _

____“Lance,” Hunk said from the doorway. “I still have the rest of your costume to…” He trailed off as he studied Lance’s face. “Oh boy, what’s wrong?”_ _ _ _

____At the sight of Hunk, Lance raised his hands up to calm him, because Hunk was the type of person who needed reassurance before announcing something was even wrong. “Nyma and Pidge aren’t here yet. But, don’t panic, I’m sure—”_ _ _ _

____“NYMA AND PIDGE AREN’T HERE YET?” Hunk screamed._ _ _ _

____There was a brief moment where the world was dead quiet, then the whole cast burst out of their dressing rooms to flood the backstage area entirely. “Nyma's not here yet?!” a group of girls’ cried simultaneously, shredding Keith’s eardrums._ _ _ _

____“Where is she?” another girl asked._ _ _ _

____“Did you call her?”_ _ _ _

____“Calling, she isn’t picking—”_ _ _ _

____“Why didn’t Allura tell us—?”_ _ _ _

____Panic had ensued, and while everyone was trying to contact Nyma, Keith tried dialing Pidge again. Lance and Hunk hovered near him, then gasped when they heard a faint, “Yeah?” on the other end._ _ _ _

____“Everyone, shut up!” Lance shouted._ _ _ _

____Once the room went quiet, Keith put Pidge on speaker. “Pidge, where are you? Are you with Nyma?”_ _ _ _

____“Uh, yeah. We’re both stuck in traffic right now.”_ _ _ _

____“Well when are you getting here? The show’s starting in an hour.”_ _ _ _

____Pidge paused. “GPS says about we’ll get about… oh, nine.”_ _ _ _

____Lance snatched the phone from Keith’s hand. “Nine?! The show will be done by then!”_ _ _ _

____A horn blared on the other end, followed by Pidge saying, “Hey it’s not our fault some asshole decided to block 85!”_ _ _ _

____Nyma’s voice cut through then. “Lance, we already called Allura and told her we wouldn’t get there in time. She said she would handle it. Hasn’t she come to talk the cast yet?”_ _ _ _

____“No one’s seen here.” Lance’s eyes darted around the room, as though expecting her to waltz in any moment. But when she didn’t everyone—and Keith meant everyone—dispersed like shrapnel._ _ _ _

____Keith took back the phone, plugging up one ear to block out the panic. “Pidge, you sure you can’t make it? I know you were really looking forward to this.” Pidge sighed heavily. “Yeah, but Allura said I can be in the next show, so at least I’ll still be a part of show season.”_ _ _ _

____Still, he could only imagine how disappointed Pidge must be._ _ _ _

____“Hey, but break a leg out there,” Pidge said. “And remember: don’t suck.”_ _ _ _

____Keith snickered, but promised to oblige and hung up. Half of the cast that went to look for Allura were back, clueless, making Keith’s stomach twist in anxiousness. No one could find her? Lance and Hunk were back, too, looking as dumbfounded as ever. They hadn’t found her either. Great._ _ _ _

“We’re screwed!” someone yelled, and no one said otherwise. Mainly because it was true. 

____But maybe they weren’t._ _ _ _

____Keith didn’t train this hard to have this show ruined for him, and goddamn it, there had to be something they could do. “Can’t someone fill in for Nyma? Doesn’t she have an understudy?”_ _ _ _

____“Allura doesn’t believe in understudies,” Lance said, already sounding defeated. “Which I don’t know why—”_ _ _ _

____“Because no one can compete with Nyma,” someone chastised. “No one.”_ _ _ _

____“Well that doesn’t help us now, does it?” someone else snapped._ _ _ _

“Okay, does anyone, and I mean _anyone _know Nyma’s routine?” Keith asked, adding volume to his voice. “Because, whether we like it or not, we need a fill in.”__

______Silence swept over them as everyone avoided Keith’s gaze. Oh, for Christ’s sake. “Seriously?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Um…” Lance coughed, then raised a timid hand. “I mean, I do, but that’s because…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“She’s your partner,” Keith sighed. “Of course you know her every move.” He wrecked his fingers through his hair. “And you can’t play two parts at once, so…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Lance jerked his head up, eyes widening, a grin slowly stretching across his face. Keith stiffened. Uh-oh. What was he thinking? Lance turned to Hunk. “Hunk how fast can you make adjustments to my costume?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Uh, as fast as you need me to.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Lance turned to Keith, a newly lit flame burning in the pits of his pupils. He grabbed Keith’s shoulders. “I have an idea.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______In the very back of the theater, Allura leaned against the wall and waited for the curtains to part. The lights had yet to dim, but it was only a matter of time to see what kind of show her cast was going to put on given the absence of their lead dancer.______

 _ _ _ _ _ _She was standing just a few feet away from the back entrance, so when it opened, she had a clear view as to who had opened it. He was tall, muscular, mid-twenties, wearing a very fitting fighter pilot uniform. He squinted at the rows of taken seats in front of him, the small tuft of black hair hanging over his forehead falling between his eyebrows in the process.______

 _ _ _ __ _ _ _

______“There’s room back here,” Allura said to him, smiling._ _ _ _ _ _

_________Shiro jumped, and once realizing who’d spoken, clamped up like a calm. “Ah—”___

 _ _ _“I see you got my invitation,” she said, loving the look of realization cross over his face.  
___

___

“Wait, you sent me that?” He looked out into the audience. “I thought that was Keith’s subtle way of…” His face fell. “Ah, well, knowing Keith, he probably thought I’d be too busy to come.”

_ _ _

______“Which is exactly why I invited you myself,” Allura explained, smirking. “I know you wouldn’t want to miss this.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Rubbing the back of his neck, Shiro took one last look at the rows of taken seats and leaned back against the wall next to Allura. By the stiffness of his stance, Allura knew that he was beyond uncomfortable, and while she did enjoy being the one to cause him such discomfort, she did feel slightly guilty for it, too._ _ _ _ _ _

______“How is he?” Shiro asked her, grateful that he was the one to break the ice first. “You know, Keith.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“He’s great.” Allura felt confident in saying this, given what’s she seen in class. “He’s really found his footing. Literally.”_ _ _ _ _ _

Shiro chuckled at that, and Allura found herself smiling, too. Despite their history, she still found enjoyment in his company…. But, because of their history, she had to ask… “So…” She nodded to the audience. “How is _he_?” 

______Puzzled, Shiro glanced between her and the stage. “You just told me how he was.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Allura calmly shook her head. “I don’t mean Keith.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Understanding crashed onto Shiro, visibly rocketing him. Allura hadn’t meant to bring this up, but she was curious, not just for her own state of mind, but Shiro’s. “I—I... Allura, I… Look, I…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She put up a hand. “Shiro, really, it’s fine. I just want to know how you’re doing. Nothing more.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______It took a moment, but Shiro eventually softened, a small smile creeping on his smile. “We’re… we’re good.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Allura rested a hand on his shoulder. “Good,” she said earnestly. “Because you deserve to be happy, Shiro.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Shiro’s smile slipped slightly. “But are you happy?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Just then, the lights to the theater dimmed, and Allura’s eyes gleamed as the curtain started to part. “Beyond,” she answered._ _ _ _ _ _

_Alright_ , she thought. _Let’s see what they came up with._

______Was she evil for wanting to see how her cast would react to losing their lead ballerina after hearing she wouldn’t make to the show? Yes, very much so._ _ _ _ _ _

______The curtains parted entirely, revealing a glittering winter wonderland that was once a stage. Crystallized snowflakes hung above heaps of sparkling snow. The overhead lights flashed on, basking the stage with a soft baby blue light. The orchestra near the front of the stage began to play, signaling the Winter Prince to enter stage left. Allura settled back against the wall, waiting… waiting… Then—_ _ _ _ _ _

_Holy—_

______Shiro gasped, leaning so far forward Allura was sure he was going to tip over. “That’s… he... he’s the… star of the…?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Allura choked on her own laugher. “Apparently,” she managed._ _ _ _ _ _

______There, on stage, was Keith. Otherwise known as the Winter Prince._ _ _ _ _ _

______He was dressed in a sleek white suit with more crystallized snowflakes overlaying the fabric, his dark hair colored with what looked to be white frost. He looked to the audience, a sort of ferocity in his gaze. He started to strut across the stage, his eyes never leaving the audience, as if daring them to object to him being there. And Allura loved it.______

 _ _ _ _ _ _Suddenly, the winter helpers, those dressed in purely sparkling white leotards and tutus, pranced onto stage from both sides. Keith joined them, basking the stage in more snow. Allura was completely entranced, and was visibly shaking in anticipation as Spring began to descend.______

 _ _ _ __ _ _ _

______Keith and the other dancers slowed their routine, suddenly breaking it entirely as Keith pointed up at the corner of the stage. There, flowers descanted downward, raining over a sliver of the stage. More flowers rained, taking over almost half of the stage now. The winter helpers gasped silently, and started to bolt from the onslaught of a new season, knowing the detriment of them sticking around to live in it. Death._ _ _ _ _ _

______As the flowers slowly commandeered the stage, the spring helpers, dancers dressed in multicolored uniforms, such as pink, blue, green, yellow, hurried forward, pushing aside the snow to roll out a carpet of lush green grass, and jumping up at incredible heights to take down the snowflakes hanging above. More than half of the stage was enveloped by spring helpers now, and nearly all of the helpers of Winter had fled. All except Keith. At the far right of the stage, Keith glared at Spring, conveying his hatred for the warmth of the new season through dance. That is, until he saw the Spring Princess._ _ _ _ _ _

______Or, in this case, Prince._ _ _ _ _ _

______Lance hurried onto stage, jumping up higher than all of his helpers to grab the last remaining snowflake hanging above stage. He wore a pink flower crown atop his head, his green leotard pinned with various flowers such as roses, tulips, and daisies. He wore no tights, revealing his strong, muscular legs. The only thing covering his lower half was a slanted skirt the same color as the leotard, pinned with enough flowers to make a bouquet._ _ _ _ _ _

He landed lightly on his feet, like a fairy, but once he did so, everything stopped. The flowers stopped raining, the dancers stopped dancing, the music slowed, and Keith’s face melted into what Allura knew was the purest form of _need_ she’d ever seen. 

______Time had stopped for the Winter Prince as he gazed at the Spring Prince, never seeing anything so lovely in his life. And from the look that Keith was giving Lance, she knew for certain that his expression up there was anything less than genuine._ _ _ _ _ _

______Right then, the Winter Prince knew he wanted to meet him, to introduce himself, but that’s when time sped up again._ _ _ _ _ _

______Flowers rained, the dancers danced, and the music sped up. The Winter Prince cursed as Spring nearly covered the stage entirely. He only managed to catch a quick glance of the Spring Prince’s face before running off stage, but it was a face he would remember forever._ _ _ _ _ _

______The rest of the performance went on just like that. When Winter reentered the stage, bringing along their winter wonderland in the process, Allura saw him struggle to find a way to meet his beloved, dancing in such an honest and open way, something Allura had no idea Keith was capable of. The way his body moved when Spring was overtaking the earth again, leaning forward toward the flowers and the grass and the life, while simultaneously pulling back to his cold quiet solitude that is winter, was mesmerizing. Each time Spring came back, Keith managed to push his body closer and closer to the array of color, closer to meeting the Spring Prince, only to painfully pull himself back to his helpers at the last minute._ _ _ _ _ _

______Until, finally, he didn’t._ _ _ _ _ _

______Winter had taken over the stage again, and Allura could see the fierce determination in Keith’s stance as he looked to the left of the stage, prepared, ready to meet the Spring Prince once and for all. It was only a rumor that he would die in the setting of a new season, it wasn’t for certain, right? Maybe it was just a myth. Maybe they could be together. Maybe everything would be okay._ _ _ _ _ _

______On the left of the stage, flowers rained down once more, and as usual, the helpers of winter began to flee. But the Prince stood his ground. The flowers rained harder and harder, and the helpers of Spring hesitated at his presence as they came onto stage, keeping their distance. Finally, the Spring Prince came into sight, shocked, no, _thrilled_ to see the Winter Prince up close. He approached with a smile as bright as the sun, his eyes conveying just how much he’s wanted him, how over the years, he’s only ever managed to catch a glimpse of this stunning Winter Prince before fleeing, and how he wished—for once—he would stay to introduce himself. _ _ _ _ _ _

______The Winter Prince had never felt such joy. A slight flush brushed his pale cheeks, and he bowed. He then straightened, and put out a hand. But before the Spring Prince could take it, an onslaught of flowers poured down above the Winter Prince, covering him entirely. The Spring Prince’s mouth dropped, egregious horror taking over, and he hurried to push aside the pile of flowers, hoping to find his Winter Prince in the midst, but sadly, all that was left was a single minuscule snowflake, and it was already melting._ _ _ _ _ _

______The lights dimmed, the curtains closed, and the audience stood, clapping so loud it seemed to rock the stage._ _ _ _ _ _

______“That… was incredible,” Shiro breathed, clapping._ _ _ _ _ _

______Allura beamed. Yes, yes it was._ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait everyone, hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter. I had a lot of fun writing certain scenes, others I struggled with, and it probably shows. Anyway, thank you readers, and as always, feel free to criticize. Much love.
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO check out this beautiful piece of fan-art by @onelastklance on tumblr!! -->   
> http://onelastklance.tumblr.com/post/157472731175/time-had-stopped-for-the-winter-prince-as-he-gazed


	8. Like that?

The crowd was deafening.

Keith could hear it from under the trap door he’d escaped into when the ample of stage flowers had fallen on top of him. He sucked in a ragged breath. The did it. They pulled off the show.

An instant later, the trap door above him opened, and light flooded into the crawl space he was placed in. A hand stretched out to him. Lance’s. He helped him onto the stage with a firm grip, his smile brighter than he’s ever seen it. “Dude,” he breathed. “That was _incredible_.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Once he was on stage, the cast gathered and linked hands, forming a line across the stage. Lance squeezed his hand reassuringly when the curtain parted again, revealing a jam-packed crowd clapping eagerly on their feet. Keith hardly looked at the crowd when he was dancing, knowing he’d get nervous and slip up if he did, and looking at how many people there were in the house now, he knew he made the right decision. 

After a bow, and the curtain fell again, the cast rejoiced by jumping and laughing in utter disbelief. Lance smile grew larger and larger as he leaned into Keith, squeezing his hand to his chest as he let out another breathy giggle. “ _Damn_ Keith, where did that _come_ from? You danced like a pro!”

Keith had taken extra notice in the fact that their hands were still intertwined, and he hoped Lance mistook his reddening face as a sign of being overheated from the cast bustling around him. And God… Lance looked so beautiful. Watching him on stage dressed like that—flower crown and all—well, it wasn’t hard to act like he was pining. Mainly because he wasn’t acting.

Plucking a fake rose petal from the crown, Keith used it to tap Lance’s nose. “No idea.”

“Hey, superstars,” one of their cast members said as they ran by. “Taking pics out front. Come on!”

A few minutes later, they all huddled out to the entrance of the venue the theater was in, where a few of their school photographers flashed their camera at them and told them to smile. Normally, Keith hated pictures, but since he was able to stay next to Lance, he didn’t mind it one bit.  
Soon, the crowd from earlier started pouring out of the theater, the majority of that crowd were families of the cast. They flocked to them, gushing and awing. Keith stepped to the side, mindful of those looking for their sons and daughters. A twinge of jealousy took hold as he did so, knowing no one would be looking for him, per say, but that feeling didn’t last long. _Tons_ of people came up to compliment him, making it impossible to feel empty, like he was missing out. 

As Keith finished shaking hands with the father of one of the girl’s in his class, he caught sight of Lance from across the room, surrounded by what had to be his family. His smile was radiant, and Keith smiled in return. He hadn’t seen Lance this happy in… Well, he didn’t recall ever seeing Lance this happy. And the fact that he contributed to his happiness… It made all the difference.

“That was some performance.”

Keith stiffened. _No, it can’t be._ “Shiro?” he said as he turned around. “What are you…”

“Doing here?” he asked.

Slowly, Keith nodded. He studied his face; he didn’t look mad for not being invited, but… 

Shiro held up a hand, giving him a soft smile. “It’s okay—I get why you didn’t invite me.”

Pausing, Keith rubbed the back of his neck. “Who _did_ invite you, then?”

Shiro smirked. “Who do you think?”

It took a little longer than it should have, but once he knew, he knew. “Allura?”

Shiro delved into his aviator jacket and pulled out a pamphlet for tonight’s show. Huh. Keith didn’t know if he should be angry or grateful. Maybe a little bit of both. He took the pamphlet, eyeing Nyma’s name next to the part of the Spring Princess. Keith’s name, on the other hand, was shoved down at the very bottom amongst the other background dancers. Keith stared at Shiro. He came, despite knowing Keith wasn’t going to be the star of the show? Ah, Shiro… 

“I didn’t know you could dance like that,” Shiro said in surprise, reverencing even. 

Keith puffed out a laugh. “Honestly, neither did I.”

Shiro put a hand on his shoulder, and just like that, Keith’s heart swelled to the extent of it feeling as though it’d break past his ribs. For once— _for once _—Shiro wasn’t looking at him like he was damaged goods, with _pity_. No, tonight, he was proud. __

__“Keith!”_ _

__Before even having a chance to turn, Pidge hurled themselves at him. After squeezing the air out of his midsection, Pidge pulled back with glittering eyes and a cheeky little smile. “Dude, that was amazing!”_ _

__“Pidge?” Keith laughed. “When did you get here?”_ _

__“I—Oh.” Pidge glanced at Shiro. “I’m sorry, I interrupted something.”_ _

__“What? Oh, no you’re good. Uh Pidge, meet my brother, Shiro. Shiro, this is Pidge. Pidge Holt.”_ _

__Shiro raised his eyebrows. “Oh, so you’re Pidge. I knew Matt said you were in ballet, but I didn’t know you were in the same class as Keith. Um, is Matt here, by any chance?”_ _

__Pidge nodded eagerly. “Yeah, he’s back in the theater.”_ _

__Shiro took in a deep breath, then flashed—dare he say—somewhat of a nervous smile to Keith. What’s up with him all of a sudden? “Well, I guess I should say hello to the family then. Pidge, it was very nice to meet you. Keith, we’ll talk more later.”_ _

__Once he was off, Keith turned back to Pidge. “So, you saw the show? How much of it?”_ _

__“All of it! You were amazing!”_ _

__… Huh? “You saw… all of it? Wait, when did you get here?”_ _

__Pidge’s excitement waned for a second. They sucked in air through their teeth and averted their gaze from him. “Uh… Well… We actually got here right when the show was about to start. You should have _seen_ Nyma drive, though. After we stopped to get gas, it was like we were in Fast and The Furious. She—”_ _

__“Wait, wait, wait.” Keith waved his hands about. “You got here right as the show started? We could have waited for you to get dressed!”_ _

__Pidge rolled their eyes. “I mean, sure, but then I wouldn’t have been able to see that kick ass performance. Nyma was so stunned to see you there we just took seats in the back of the theater and watched. Dude, where did you learn to dance like that? Actually, no, don’t answer that. I _know_ where you learned to dance like that. What I should be asking is how do you feel right now? You were the star of the show!”_ _

__Keith grinned. God, he loved hearing that. “Like I’m walking on air.”_ _

__“Yo, guys,” Hunk said as he trotted over. “Allura wants all of you backstage.”_ _

__Allura? Well, it’s about time. Where was she that whole time? Guess he’ll just have to find out. After everyone in the cast found their way backstage, Allura stood there, arms crossed, waiting for them. “Well, everyone,” she said above the murmurs. “That was quite a show.”_ _

__“Where were you?” Lance asked. Keith kind of expected him to be hostile, but given that performance, he supposed no one was really that upset with her since the show turned out to be a success._ _

__Allura ran a hand through her hair, sighing. “ _I_ was in the crowd, waiting to see what kind of show you all were going to put on with a missing lead.”_ _

__Lance snorted. “Seriously? And you didn’t think that we may need your help?”_ _

__Allura shrugged. “Possibly, but you didn’t, did you?” When no one responded, she kept going. “Look, tonight, you learned something. With these shows, things can go wrong. In fact, they almost always will. Whether it be someone’s costume rips, or one of your lead dancers can’t make the show and you can’t find your teacher to tell you what to do—you need to learn to handle this sort of stress. As dancers, you will face much harsher travails than this, and it’s my job to prepare you for them.” She looked at them fondly. “ _But_ … I may have gone a little overboard, and for that, I apologize.” _ _

__All were silent a moment, and it wasn’t a surprise that Lance was the first to break it; it’s what he _said_ that surprised Keith. “Well, I think we can all agree things worked out for the best. Right everyone?” _ _

__The cast was nodding in agreement in no time, and Keith did his best to suppress his blush. Pretty sure he failed._ _

__“Well, good, because there’s something else I need to share with you,” Allura said. She pointed to the door just as Nyma walked in, waving. She looked to Allura. “Did you tell them yet?” she asked._ _

__“Thought it’d be best to come from you.”_ _

__“Tell us what?” Pidge asked._ _

__Nyma inhaled deeply, then flashed them a nervous smile. “That tonight’s show, despite the fact that I wasn’t in it, was the last show I will be able to attend at Altea.”_ _

__Lance broke away from the cast and stepped toward her, voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “What?”_ _

__She held up her phone sheepishly. “When Pidge and I stopped to get gas on the way here, I got a call saying I got accepted early into a company—one in _Russia_. I… Well, after I heard that, I rushed to get here, only to see the show had started… then I saw you two on stage.” She gestured between Lance and Keith, smiling. “And it was then that I knew that this cast will be just fine without me. That being said…” She stepped past Lance and was now directly in front of Keith. “Keith, will you take my place for show season?”_ _

__Her… place? As in… as in…. Oh, no way can she be serious. But as Keith continued to look at her, he realized she was. “I—wha…” Keith choked on his words. He suddenly became very away that everyone was looking at him, and he couldn’t handle the pressure. He tried directing the attention elsewhere. “There are… so many better dancers than me in this room. Why are you asking me if I can…?”_ _

__“Because no one, and I mean no one can handle Lance’s ego like I can. Am I right?” she asked the cast._ _

__Everyone let out a sound between a snort and laugh. Lance rolled his eyes._ _

__“You’re the only person who I’ve seen be able to put him in his place. Because, by God, Keith, I cannot leave this school knowing Lance’s ego will be left unchecked.” She turned to everyone else, raising up an eyebrow. “Well, does that sound good?”_ _

__Everyone, as expected, agreed with Nyma on who should replace her, but Keith didn’t care about what everyone else said—it was Lance’s voice that mattered, and right then, he was looking at Nyma, not Keith, a mixture of emotions pooling from his eyes. Keith turned his head. “Nyma, I’m sorry, but I—”_ _

__“He’ll do it,” Lance interrupted, despite the fact he was still looking at Nyma. A small smile broke out on his face, one that grew larger as he shook his head. When he finally looked to Keith, he’d shaken off whatever he’d been thinking a moment prior, now fully invested in him. “Right?”_ _

__Keith’s voice stuck in his throat, so he just nodded. “I mean… only if you…”_ _

__Lance rolled his eyes playfully and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Nyma, we’ll be the baddest duo you’ve ever seen. Because you are coming back to see the finale for the show season, right?”_ _

__Nyma smirked. “Of course.”_ _

__Allura clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “Well, now that that’s settled: Everyone, get cleaned up, because we’ve got some celebrating to do!”_ _

__Allura had declared earlier that week that after the opening show, they would all be invited to her friend’s house in town for a bonfire and potluck, but as Keith changed out of his costume, he didn’t feel much like celebrating. Lance had changed quickly, off to talk to Nyma about her leaving, he was sure. Keith sighed.  
Tonight was supposed to be different. Nyma was supposed to be the Spring Princess, and Keith and Pidge were supposed to be one of the many background characters behind her, grateful that they were even in the show at all. Tonight was _supposed_ to be Nyma’s last show, but instead Keith stole it right out from under her. He never would have done it if he knew tonight was Nyma’s last performance. His star and shining moment had been reduced to a backstabbing act on Nyma’s part, and despite whether she told him otherwise, that’s still how he saw it._ _

__Now he was taking her spot for good? Seriously? Not only was that unfair to him, but more importantly Lance. Keith knew he was only being nice by making him agree to take her place, but she’s _Nyma_. No one can take her place; that fact was clearer than day. _ _

__Sighing, Keith grabbed his dance bag and headed out. Allura’s friend’s house was just down the road, so after throwing his bag on the bus they’d come on, he started walking. The entrance to the bonfire was through a path that curved around the side of the house to a large fence to the backyard. Soft music pulsed from the other side, and the smell of warm stew hung in the air. Pushing his way past the fence, Keith was greeted by the spark of a blazing fire in the middle of the yard. Instinctively, he searched for Lance amongst the cast wandering around, spotting him in the corner talking to Nyma, looking way too concerned for Keith’s comfort. He was probably trying to convince her not to leave._ _

__Feeling a headache coming on, Keith headed for the drink table, pouring himself a cup of water. He let his eyes wander, hoping to find Pidge, but instead found Shiro as he walked through the fence, someone familiar looking trailing behind him._ _

__“Keith, hey,” Shiro greeted as he saw him. “I want you to meet someone.” He gestured to the man he’d walked in with. “This is Matt.”_ _

__Keith awed at how much the guy looked like Pidge, only taller. He pushed up the bridge of his glasses, just the way Pidge did. He had on a goofy, lopsided smile, gaze soft and endearing. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Shiro’s talked so much about you. And your performance tonight? That was amazing!”_ _

__There was something so genuine about this tone, instantly making Keith feel lighter, like life wasn’t so bad now that Matt had spoken to him. “T—thank you.”_ _

__Matt nodded, then flicked his gaze over to the other side of the room. “Oh, there’s Pidge. I’ll be right back.”_ _

__“So did Allura invite you?” Keith asked Shiro after Matt left._ _

__“Sure did.”_ _

__“So you two are… cool now?”_ _

__Shiro chuckled. “I think so, yes.”_ _

__Nodding, Keith took another sip of his water, unable to help his eyes drifting back to Lance… who was still with Nyma. Great._ _

__“So…” Shiro started. “Who’s the boy?”_ _

__Keith nearly spit on his water. “What?”_ _

__“Oh come on, don’t play dumb.”_ _

__Tapping his foot, Keith stared into his drink. “His name is Lance…” he muttered._ _

__Shiro smirked. “You two looked pretty comfy together on stage.”_ _

__“I was acting.”_ _

__“Were you?”_ _

__Huffing, Keith pointed his drink at Allura, who was chatting with some parents on the other side of the yard. “I’m glad you finally smoothed things over with Allura. You going to tell me why you two broke up now?”_ _

__He’d said this in a desperate attempt to circumvent around Shiro’s prodding, but he didn’t actually expect him to reply. Sighing, Shiro pointed a finger at Matt. “You’re looking at him.”_ _

__Matt? What was he…. Why was he…_ _

__Oh._ _

_Oh._

__“We drifted apart, honestly,” Shiro continued. “She was busy tutoring her student, and I… Well, I met Matt. When she announced that she was moving to New York, it didn’t phase me at all. It was like we’d both already moved on.”_ _

__Geez. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say._ _

__Shiro smiled sadly at him. “Relationships are hard, Keith. They take work, but when you find the right person… they’re worth it.”_ _

Keith breathed in deep. _Not when your friendship is at stake._

__Shiro patted his shoulder, eyeing something behind Keith’s head, before heading off towards Matt. When Keith turned, Lance was coming up behind him, smiling. “’Sup.”_ _

__Keith tossed the water around in his cup. “Thought you were with Nyma…”_ _

__“I was, but then her boyfriend showed up.”_ _

__Keith snapped his head up. “Her…?” He directed his attention back to Nyma, who was now smiling up at some scruffy looking guy holding a bouquet of flowers._ _

__“Name’s Rolo,” Lance informed. “Anyway... you want to get out of here?”_ _

__Keith couldn’t think of a reason to say no, so off they went. They moseyed along the streets side by side, enjoying the warm subtle breeze as it passed. Lance walked with his hands behind his head. “We should probably decide whose parts were going to play in the next show. It’s Allura’s rendition of the Phantom of the Opera, and I’m pretty sure I was going to play the phantom, but honestly, I think it’d fit you better. You’re way more brooding.”_ _

__Keith slowed his step, making Lance turn toward him. “What’s wrong?”_ _

__Keith clenched his fists. “Look, I know I’m not Nyma, and I’ll never be as good as her, but I promise, I won’t let you down in these performances. I—”_ _

__“Whoa, whoa, where is this coming from? I told you I wanted you as a partner, didn’t I?”_ _

__Shrugging, Keith rubbed his arm. “Thought you were only saying that to be nice…. You’ve practically spent the whole night with Nyma… just assumed you were convincing her not to go.”_ _

__Lance looked at him, incredulous. “Keith, there’s no doubt in my mind that we’re going to be great as a team. What we did up there today? That was _magic_. That doesn’t come around often. I mean, yeah I was surprised when Nyma said she was leaving, and a little sad, sure, but I’m not worried about you taking her place. Not even close.”_ _

__“Then what are you worried about?” he asked. “You’ve been fidgety ever since Nyma announced she was going to a company, how else am I supposed to take that?”_ _

__Lance grew silent, the only sound between them the buzz of the streetlamp above them. “I just… am worried about her, you know? Companies… there not all they’re chocked up to be.”_ _

__“And how would you know?”_ _

__Lance froze. “I just… you know, I’ve heard stories. And you read crap like every now and then.”_ _

__“Like?”_ _

__Lance rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter—I was being stupid. Nyma can hold her own; she’ll be fine, just like we will.”_ _

__There was an edge to his tone, and Keith was unsure whether he should egg him on or not. But he had other things on his mind now. Nyma. Keith had pushed down the fact that Lance would never returned his feelings, that he was with Nyma. But… he wasn’t. He wasn’t with Nyma. Never was. If that was the case then… then maybe there was a chance?_ _

__He knew he shouldn’t be going back and forth in deciding whether he should pursue his feelings for Lance or not, but a window had opened, and he wanted desperately to jump through it. But, if he did so, what if he screwed it up—he’s never done anything like this. He’s never been in a relationship. Coming out as gay in high school didn’t exact warrant acceptance and hugs and congratulatory handshakes from his peers. He laid low, but with Lance… what if he messed it up? What if it affected their dancing? They now have a whole show season to look forward to—he couldn’t risk that. Not now. Maybe not ever._ _

__“You said we’re doing Phantom of the Opera, right?” he asked. “What’s it about?”_ _

Lance stopped dead. “You’ve never seen _Phantom of the Opera_?” 

__“Afraid not.”_ _

Gaping, Lance shook his head in downright disappointment and grabbed his arm. “Come with me. We have work to do.” 

They went back to the bonfire and shared a seat in one of the lawn chairs, lying down side by side in order for them to watch the cheesy 2004 Phantom of the Opera movie on Lance’s cracked phone screen, followed by out of focus short Youtube videos of the show on Broadway. Usually, Keith would lose his mind being that close to Lance, but after being on stage together, after showing him his most vulnerable side to him, touching shoulder to shoulder seemed like child’s play. 

As the night went on, Pidge and Hunk pulled up seats and watched with them, while their classmates danced by the fire and roasted marshmallows and sang and laughed. Shiro nodded to him at the fence before he left, hand in hand with Matt, right after saying goodbye to Allura, of course, who winked and mouthed goodbye as he went. At the very end of the night, before they all gathered back on the bus to school, they signed Nyma off by tying ballet shoes to the bumper of her car and signing ‘Just signed!’ with shaving cream on her backseat window. Not long after that, they climbed back onto the bus, where Lance took the seat beside him. Being it was… well, late, Lance knocked out instantly, accidentally letting his head fall on Keith’s shoulder. Keith remembered stiffening, but after realizing he was just as tired, let himself sink into the seat and lean against the top of Lance’s head, smiling. The night had ended just as spectacularly as it started, and Keith couldn’t imagine how things could get any better. 

\-- 

__The next few days were pretty routine._ _

__Allura announced that they were indeed going to perform the Phantom of the Opera… with a twist._ _

__“Pidge will play Christine,” she announced jovially._ _

__Keith and Lance fist bumped Pidge, who was grinning so wide Keith was surprised their cheeks weren’t on fire._ _

__“While Lance will the play the phantom, and Keith—Raoul.”_ _

__Huh. Raoul—Christine’s childhood friend. He could do that._ _

__“What’s the twist you were talking about?” someone asked._ _

And Allura told them, making Keith internally scream. _Of course._

__They spent the next few days learning the basics of the choreography. Lance had taken to his role as the Phantom almost _too_ well. A whole week went by where he’d come into class wearing a cheap costume cape and waving it in front of everyone’s faces, along with using the plastic white opera mask he’d bought along with it as a Frisbee during dinner. _ _

__“Lance!” Keith snapped at him that day, slamming down the mask onto the table. “You’re not taking this seriously.”_ _

__Pidge slid the mask from underneath Keith’s hand, took off their glasses, and put it up against their face, then put their glasses on over the mask. Turning to Hunk, Pidge asked, “What do you think?”_ _

__From across the table, Hunk laughed so hard a third of his milk carton shot out of his nose, rendering giggles from… Well, everyone._ _

Lance shoved his fork into his mac n’ cheese. “But he’s just so… _depressing_.” He pawed Keith from across the table. “Keith, Keith trade roles with me!” 

__This wasn’t the first time he’d asked this. “Allura gave us these roles for a reason—to challenge us.”_ _

__“You’re playing a dude who ends up saving Christine from the Phantom when he kidnaps her—I wouldn’t say your role is a challenge. It’s easy to play the courageous dude—that’s like every Disney prince ever.” Lips pursed in a pout, Lance rested his cheek on the table._ _

__Keith smiled; he leaned against the table and nudged Lance’s ankle with his foot. “Want to practice a little more tonight?”_ _

__He half expected him to say, “I don’t need practice.” But instead, he nodded shyly._ _

__“Seven sound okay?”_ _

__Lance took another bite of his dinner. “I have a meeting with Allura around then. How about eight?”_ _

__A few hours later, Keith sat awaiting Lance in their dance studio, using the bar for balance as he stretched out his knee. He didn’t bother looking at the clock; he knew Lance would be late—always was, so might as well get in some extra stretching while he—_ _

__Just then, Lance hurried through the door. Keith looked at the clock: 7:58. Whoa._ _

__“Well, well, well,” he chided, “look who actually made it on time.”_ _

__Lance chuckled as he rifled through his dance bag, but there was something off about his tone. Something hesitant._ _

__“You okay?” Keith asked._ _

__“Y—yup,” he answered, voice tremulous. He kicked off his leg warmers and pulled his arm in front of his chest, stretching it. “We ready to do this?”_ _

_Um no, you look like crap_ , is what Keith _wanted_ to say, and probably should have, but he knew Lance well enough to know he’d just deflect until he dropped it. So, they got into position. In the Phantom of the Opera, the Phantom was a man who lived beneath the opera house. He was a depressing, obsessive dude madly in love with the main character, and the way Lance was dancing… it didn’t portray that at all. 

__As Keith danced, he watched him more carefully. It wasn’t as if Lance was dancing poorly, it’s just that he was dancing without… heart; it was like his mind was off somewhere else and his body was here, vacant, only going through the motions._ _

__“Lance? Lance!” Keith stopped him in the middle of a pirouette, clasping a hand on both of his shoulders to prevent him from doing his last spin. Lance jerked away, but once laying his eyes on Keith, relaxed some, as though just realizing he was there._ _

__“What’s wrong?” Keith whispered, afraid to raise his voice. Lance looked like a spooked deer; last thing he wanted to do was scare him off._ _

__Lance stared for a moment, then closed his eyes. “I’m just… tired.”_ _

__“Want to take a break?”_ _

__Sighing, Lance nodded. They migrated to the floor, where Lance reached into his bag and pulled out his water bottle, but halfway through opening the cap, he stopped and just… stared at it, like the act alone was too much effort._ _

__“Lance, seriously, what’s wrong?” Keith asked. “You’re starting to scare me.”_ _

__Lance licked his lip, shrugging. “Remember when I told that I had a meeting with Allura before this?”_ _

__“Yeah…”_ _

__“Well, she told me today that… that uh… that scouts are going to be at our next show.”_ _

__“Scouts?”_ _

__“Yeah, like the guys that recruit you for companies. Allura said that… that they were interested in me.”_ _

Keith blinked. That’s it? _That’s_ what he’s worried about? “Lance, that’s… that’s great! Why aren’t you...” Understanding settled on Keith. “Oh, wait just a second—” 

__Lance froze._ _

__“—you’re nervous!”_ _

__Lance blinked. “Uh… y—yeah. Yeah. I mean… Well, pft, no, no I’m not nervous!”_ _

__Keith rolled his eyes. Why didn’t he realize that before? “Okay, get up.”_ _

__“Where are we going?”_ _

__Smirking, Keith helped Lance off the ground. “You’ll see.”_ _

__An hour later, they climbed out of the bus Keith made them take into the next town over, _his_ hometown, more accurately. After dragging Lance a couple of blocks from the bus stop, he stopped them in front of a place he hadn’t been to in what felt like years._ _

__“Welcome to the Star-dome.”_ _

__Lance didn’t look nearly as impressed as he wanted him to. “A planetarium?”_ _

__Keith grabbed his arm. “Just… come on. You’ll see.”_ _

__Once inside, Keith led him inside his favorite room: the visualization theater. It was designed like an average theater, with cushioned seats set in rows higher than the last one before it. But instead of a screen in front, it was above, spread out before them across the dome roof. The screen was pitch black right now, the room lighted by the edge of the steps dividing the group of rows. They sat in the middle of the theater, and Keith practically bounced in excitement as he waited for the screen to turn on._ _

__“Keith, what are we doing here?” Lance asked, miffed. “I don’t know what this is, but—”_ _

__“Can you shut up for a second?” Keith sat back in his seat, then pointed upwards. “Just sit, and wait.”_ _

__And surprisingly, Lance did. He did so with a frown on his face, but Keith hoped that would change soon. He watched him from the corner of his eye, face erupting into a smile as the ceiling above faded from black to a brilliant, glowing dark blue, enveloping the room in its color. Stars and constellations formed all across the screen, and Keith was bewildered to think that he’d ever stopped coming here. He turned back to Lance, seeing his expression had changed completely._ _

__“Holy shit,” Lance laughed as he gazed up at the stars._ _

__Feeling accomplished, Keith sat back and tried to find Orion’s belt. “When I was younger, before my belt tests for tae kwon do, I’d be a nervous wreck. Seriously. I wouldn’t eat, sleep, nothing. So my older brother would take me here. We would sit down and see how many constellations I could name from the last time we came. I was really into stars, so for me, it always worked, and… I don’t know. I thought… I thought bringing you here might do the same thing.”_ _

__Lance bit his lip, contemplating. “Keith… to tell you the truth, I’m not nervous about the scouts coming…” He gripped the armrests. “I’m worried about being recruited.”_ _

__“Well, of course you are—”_ _

“No, not like that. I don’t _want_ to be recruited, Keith.” 

__Keith had to take that in a moment. “What?”_ _

__“Yeah, I’m afraid that they’ll make an offer. Look, for companies, you’ve got to be hardened. Like Nyma. She’s ready. She’s been ready, but I’m… I’m not. But if they make an offer, well, I can’t very well deny it, can I?”_ _

__“Lance, if you’re not ready to be in a company… then it’s okay to admit that.”_ _

“Yeah, maybe to you, but try telling that to a scout. Hell, to anyone. It’ll _ruin_ my reputation.” 

__“Lance, that’s stupid. Besides, how would you even know what companies are like? That can’t be that bad if everyone’s dying to get in one.”__

__Lance shook his head, eyes darting back to the display of the constellations above. “When I was training in New York, I was… I was accepted early into a company, but things didn’t work out well,” he added quickly. “Can we just leave it at that, please?”_ _

_  
_

__And there it was again, that haunted look that crossed Lance’s face whenever New York was mentioned. What could have happened to him to make him look so… broken? “And that’s why you came back here?”_ _

__He nodded._ _

“Well… what would make them _not_ want to recruit you? Dancing badly on stage?” 

__Lance snorted. “Uh, and ruin my reputation as the best dancer in school? Yeah right.”_ _

__Keith sighed. “Well, what are we going to do? Hope they don’t make you an offer?”_ _

__Lance tilted his head back. “I guess so.”_ _

__Man, did he feel useless. What happened in New York to make him hate companies so much? That question practically protruded out of his mind, but Lance had already changed the subject. “Which constellation is that?” he asked as he pointed to one of Keith’s favorites._ _

__“That is Pegasus.”_ _

__“Do you know all of them?”_ _

__“I do.”_ _

__“Can you name them for me?”_ _

__And Keith did. He hoped he managed to distract Lance long enough to make him forget about the scouts, but he knew that was far from the case._ _

__

__Another week went by._ _

__In that time, they’d perfected the routine, just in time for opening night. Lance had seemed to push down his worries about the scouts to perfect himself as the Phantom, thankfully, and things seemed to be going far more smoothly than the last time they geared up for a show, given they had their leading lady._ _

__For this show, they were performing at an outdoor amphitheater in the town north from theirs, and everything seemed to be going well. The stage was two stories. The top story displayed a ballroom/opera house, the second story the catacombs beneath. Keith peaked out from behind the curtain at the audience, seeing a full house. He breathed in deep. Shiro had texted him saying he couldn’t make it, but honestly, that sat with Keith just fine. Dancing in front of an audience was nerve-wracking enough, but dancing for an audience and his brother? He would pass, at least for this show._ _

__“You doing okay?”_ _

Keith turned. Pidge stood before him, decked out in a silk white gown with gold trim at the bottom of their sleeves. Pidge also wore a wig, making their hair twice as long as it really was. No glasses, so Keith prayed they were wearing contacts. “Am I doing okay? _You’re_ the one opening the show.” 

__Pidge shook out their arms. “I’m nervous.”_ _

__Keith placed both his hands on their shoulders. “You’re going to be great. Don’t stress.”_ _

__Suddenly, the string quartet out front began, and it was time to get into position. With a nod and a smile, Pidge hurried onto the top half of the stage, along with some of the cast, who were dressed in Victorian apparel. Keith stood near backstage, watching from the side until it was his time to go out. He leaned forward some, though, just so his view of the lower half of the stage was visible, knowing Lance was going to appear from the other side any minute. Above, he caught a glimpse of the stage crew pulling back the curtains, then switch on the stage lights, casting down a spotlight on Pidge._ _

__And just like that, they show had begun._ _

__In the original version of the Phantom of the Opera, the main character Christine was known for being a gifted opera singer, but for their show, they’d made her a gifted dancer. Pidge, otherwise known as Christine, danced before the crowd off and on stage, starting at the end of her routine only to finish a minute into the actual show. The group she was performing for on stage clapped, and she bowed graciously. She was and had been the entertainment for those at the “opera” house for some time now, but her thankfulness for their approval was never feigned._ _

__After making the rounds with those she danced for, the wooden backdrop of the opera house behind them started to turn toward the audience. The dancers started flocking behind the backdrop as it spun around to display that of a dressing room, leaving Christine the only one on stage. There, she paced, straightened her dress, fixed her hair in the mirror, then… froze. The light dimmed on the upper half of the stage, then brightened on the bottom half, otherwise known as the catacombs. Smoke billowed out from both sides of the stage, and when it dissipated, revealed a man with his back facing the audience, a cloak black as midnight over his broad shoulders: The Phantom._ _

__The music lowered, giving off an eerie tune that sent chills up Keith’s spine. The man looked behind his shoulder, then spun around to face the audience fully, giving them a clear sight of the white opera mask hiding his face. He looked up at the ceiling, then stretched a gloved hand upwards, only to slowly tighten it into a fist. With a heavy sigh, the Phantom hung his head, and sunk down toward the ground. At the same instant, the lights brightened on Christine’s dressing room, where she was still powdering her face. Then she stopped, turning her attention toward her floorboards, convinced she heard something. Below, the Phantom started to tap his foot against the ground, all while he looked up, hoping—praying to grab the attention of the girl above. Christine cupped a hand around her ear, hearing the tapping, and her eyes widen in familiarity. The Phantom began to dance slowly, each time his foot touched the ground, Christine mimicked the move he previously did. Soon, they were dancing simultaneously, theirs steps coinciding. Each spin, each turn, each jump and landing, they were in sync. When the dance was done, Christine collapsed on the ground, pressing her hands against the floorboard, yearning for the person or creature or even spirit that’d been helping her learn these routines for as long as she could remember._ _

__Just then, the backdrop switched back to the opera house filled with guests. Christine walked through the crowd, shoulders slumping. Just in time for Keith. With a deep breath, Keith smoothed out his white button up and hurried onto stage. He was playing Raoul, Christine’s childhood friend, and needed to come across that way. He weaved through the crowd until he found Pidge, er, Christine, and tapped her shoulder. Christine turned around, shocked, and jumped into his arms. He gave her a squeeze, knowing that down below, Lance was cupping his ear and turning it toward the ceiling of the catacombs, hearing Christine, the love he’s had forever, squeal at the presence of another man. After Christine and he parted, Christine suddenly waved her hand frantically, then pointed to the floor, tapping her foot against it._ _

_There’s someone who’s been teaching me to dance!_ she exclaimed through her gaze. 

Keith cocked his head. _What are you talking about?_

Christine sighed, then gasped silently. _I know, I’ll show you!_

__She grabbed his hand and lifted it above her head, using it to spun under, just like a ballerina. She spun and spun, then went on to perform the same routine she learned in her dressing room, except this time, everyone around her began to dance as well._ _

__She danced with such grace and energy, looking as though she weighed less than air. After finishing her routine, she grabbed Keith’s hand and nodded, as though she just proved him right. But… he didn’t believe her. How could he? Someone under the floorboards, teaching her these moves? Not possible._ _

__Just then, a thick fog began to fill the air. He feigned coughing, and pulled Christine into his arms, protecting her from this sudden obtrusion. He looked around wildly as those around him began to disappear into the fog; he could hardly see Christine in his arms. Then he gasped, a white opera mask appearing through the fog, growing closer and closer. Panicked, Keith spun around and pushed Christine further into the crowd, away from whatever devil was coming closer. He was just about to join her when something slipped over his eyes—a blindfold? No, a sack —and he was pulled backward, away from Christine, the girl he’d loved since forever, and was going to tell her tonight that he did so._ _

__“You’re doing great,” Lance whispered once they were off stage. He helped him out of the sack, only to hurry down toward the bottom half of the stage._ _

__“You too,” he whispered back as Lance helped him back into it._ _

__Next thing Keith felt was Lance carrying him back onto stage. Then, suddenly, he spilled out of the sack and onto the ground, quickly examining the cage he was in. He looked up at the Phantom through the bars around him, whose eyes, behind the mask, were just as wide his._ _

__The audience gasped, and Keith resisted the urge to smile._ _

__The Phantom shook his head, pacing. No, this wasn’t who he was after. Christine was who he was after, the love of his life, the girl he’d been teaching to dance for years. He could have sworn he saw her through the fog he’d implemented, not him! Not this man! He reached his hand upward, only to demonstrate who he was referring to._ _

Keith brushed off the grime from his button up and gripped the bars. _You’re the one who Christine was talking about? You’ve been teaching her to dance?_

The Phantom turned around, and Keith swore he heard him growl. He waved his hands manically. _Of course, you idiot!_

outing, Keith crossed his arms. _Well, unlucky for you, you captured me instead. But I’m grateful. I’d rather it be me than Christine. Imagining her trapped, cold, and under the control of a monster like you makes me grateful I’ve taken her place. And now that they know you exist, they’ll shut down the opera until they find the culprit for the break in._

The Phantom tapped his chin, then leaned toward the bars, pointing a finger straight at Keith. _You’re quite the altruistic one, aren’t you? Hm, fine. Have it your way. Enjoy your time here, because it won’t last long._. He spun back around, waving a hand behind him as he went offstage. Keith watched him go, then sunk to his feet. He was trapped, there was no way around it. 

On the stage above, Keith knew that the overhead lights were fading from yellow to blue to signify the days passing, and each time it became “night,” Keith sunk lower and lower to the ground. On day three Keith was on his stomach, unable to move. That’s when the Phantom came back. Weakly, he raised his head to see the Phantom with a cup of water and a plate of food. He placed it down beside the cage, then stepped back. Keith didn’t have time to decide whether or not it was poisoned, so he reached through the bars and started eating. He looked at the Phantom oddly after he was done. _You… you saved me._

The Phantom shrugged. _I may need you for later. A possible trade for Christine._

Keith glared, but his gaze softened—only slightly—as the Phantom strangely began to dance. It wasn’t anything major, but a few simple steps. Keith grasped the bars. _What are you doing?_

_Practicing, of course. How else do you think I got good enough to teach Christine?_

Keith snorted, but couldn’t help himself as he watched the Phantom dance. He danced with such raw emotion, and it stunned him to see just how he portrayed the tragedies that plagued him into his routine. How else did he end up living in the catacombs? 

__When he was done, he noticed Keith was watching. Keith hurried and turned his head away. He pointed above, gesturing to Christine, and how he reminded him of her dancing, which was... well, beautiful. The Phantom froze, then looked away as well. Soon, he grabbed the plate he’d brought and left. This same routine went on for days. The Phantom would arrive with a plate of food and water, then would practice dancing, hoping to hear his beloved Christine performing the same moves above. But surely after the little stunt he pulled, the opera must have closed to protect the safety of the people. He knew just as well as Keith that no one was near. It was only them._ _

The days went, and each time the Phantom danced for Christine, he danced with less and less feeling. He was slowly giving up, and Keith couldn’t believe he was beginning to feel _sorry_ for him. It wasn’t until the Phantom stopped in the middle of the routine that Keith knew he gave up entirely. 

__But Keith wouldn’t allow it._ _

__This man was a monster, but there was no denying that his dancing was beautiful; it was the only thing keeping him going, and he’d be damned if he let him stop._ _

__Slowly, as the Phantom hung his head in despair, Keith started to dance._ _

__He did so poorly, unable to remember all the steps, but it got the Phantom’s attention. When he finally realized the Phantom was watching, he stopped short of the routine and blushed._ _

__A silent understanding came over the Phantom, and he stepped closer to the cage, demonstrating the steps Keith had failed to memorize. When Keith got them, the Phantom clapped his hands, but after he realized what he’d done, that he was… well, indulging his prisoner, he clasped his hands together and waltz off, confused, bewildered as to why he found such enjoyment in that. Keith pondered the same thing, but the next day, to his surprise, they did the same thing. Through the bars of the cage, the Phantom progressively taught him to dance better and better, until finally, Keith asked if he could be let out._ _

He tapped the bars, giving the Phantom a frown. _I don’t have much room in here, do I?_

The Phantom blinked behind his mask, freezing, but at the same instant, looked to the lock on the cage. _I… I suppose you don’t._ He took out his key, then pointed it at Keith, brandishing it. _Don’t make me regret doing this_. He unlocked the cage, then took several steps backward. Once Keith stepped outside the cage, he pointed to him again. _You stay on that side, understand?_

__And Keith did. At first._ _

__They did the same routine they’d been practicing for days now, completely in sync with one another, but as the routine went on, Keith moved closer and closer to the center of the stage, just as the Phantom was doing. Soon, they were right in front of each other.  
Keith’s breath hitched. It’d been so long since he touched someone outside those bars, and now… _ _

__Slowly, he brought his hand up to the Phantom’s, and to his relief, he did the same thing. It wasn’t long until their hands were intertwined, and shortly after that, they began to waltz. They danced all across the stage, free, unencumbered, until they stopped. Once their waltz ended, they continued to hold each other, unable to let go of one another. It’d been forever since Keith had been this close to someone, but… what of the Phantom? What of Lance? If he wasn’t with Nyma, if the Phantom wasn’t with Christine, when was the last time they were held?_ _

__Feeling brave, Keith reached up to touch the Phantom’s opera mask, and the Phantom let him. Keith knew in the story the Phantom had been deformed at birth and had been driven down to the catacombs in fear, but given they were at the ballet, and no one could have seen the deformity of Lance’s features if they were to use makeup, they kept it clean. Keith was just about to remove the mask when suddenly, Christine appeared from the left of the stage._ _

When Keith’s eyes met hers, he threw himself away from the Phantom and lunged at her, pulling her into a hug. She stared at the Phantom, then at the cage, gasping in horror. _You’ve been keeping him here, you monster?! How dare you!_

__Keith closed his eyes. Oh how hurt the Phantom must feel by being seen that way by the woman he loved so dearly, but when he opened his eyes once more, he saw that the Phantom wasn’t looking at her, but at him._ _

__Tears swelled through the mask, and with a sigh, he turned his head, gesturing for Keith to go. Christine hurried and pulled him away from the Phantom, but Keith lingered… but only for a moment. This man was a monster, and Christine was the love of his life. There was nothing more to it. So, he went with her, leaving the Phantom alone in the catacombs once again._ _

__Cue the curtains._ _

__“Woo!” Pidge cheered as she led Keith back onto stage for the bow. As the rest of the cast spilled onto stage from both sides, Lance removed his mask and waggled his eyebrows at Keith as he came closer. “Dude, we rocked it!"_ _

__Keith only managed to get a smile in before the curtains parted again. The crowd stood, clapping like mad. Everyone took hands and bowed, but as they got back up, Keith felt Lance squeeze his hand so hard he almost felt it break. He looked to him, seeing he’d grown white as the mask he’d put down. He was staring at the audience, and Keith didn’t need to look to know he was looking at the scouts._ _

__“You killed it up there,” Keith noted sadly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they offered you a deal right now.”_ _

__Lance whimpered. “I—I don’t doubt it.”_ _

Above the roar of the crowd, Keith leaned and asked, “Well, what would make them _not_ offer you deal with a company?” 

__Lance laughed darkly. “Maybe if I flashed them or something. Do something inappropriate. I don’t know. But… Keith... I can’t move. I….” _I’m so scared.__ _

__Keith’s heart twisted. He hated seeing him this way. He didn’t _deserve_ to feel this way. Keith doesn’t know what happened in New York, and frankly, he didn’t care. What he did care about was Lance, making him feel safe, protected, and… and loved. Keith sighed. Yes, loved. Keith loved Lance, every part of him, and there was no denying it, not anymore. _ _

__Suddenly, an idea popped into his head, one that scared him, but at the same time thrilled him. It was a stupid idea, the stupidest idea, really, but one he was willing to try._ _

_You sure about this?_ the dark recesses of his mind echoed. 

__Keith bit his lip. Truthfully? Not at all._ _

__Without warning, without thinking much more about it, Keith pulled Lance into a kiss, one long and slow. The audience gasped, as well as their cast, but Keith didn’t care, drowning them out. The only thing that he needed to focus on was Lance._ _

__He poured everything he had into that kiss, and when he reluctantly parted, whispered, “Like that?”_ _

Lance stared at him, eyes so wide Keith was sure they’d pop. But then… then he _smiled_. “Yeah, like that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST OFF I deeply apologize for the wait. I've been saving up for something important to me and I now work about fifty hours a week. Add that in with school, and you could say things have been a little hectic ^^; BUT thankfully this week I had spring break so I managed to find time for this. I hope this chapter was worth the wait, but I totally understand if it doesn't meet the majority of your guys' standards. I struggled for a little bit on this one, but I did the best I could.
> 
> AnYway, thank you for supporting me and I hope I did right by you guys. Lots of love!
> 
> P.S. hEYO I also made a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Renommuss) where I will eventually start polls on what ballets (such as Cinderella or Swan lake, or something original maybe (?)) you guys want to see incorporated into the upcoming chapters. Would love to give you guys a say in what you read.


	9. What happens in NY, doesn't stay in NY

_"Yeah, like that."_

Keith couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Lance, smiling, _right after they kissed_. This had to be a dream. It had to be, because things never worked out well for Keith. 

He was a hot mess, a screw up. But this time… he did something right, and for the first time in his life, reality exceeded far past any of his fantasies.

He was so lost in Lance’s blissful expression, the one mirroring Keith’s, that he didn’t even realize the curtain had closed in front of them. The only thing that broke the bubble that surrounded Lance and he was the cast beside him parting for an expressionless (but probably pissed as hell) Allura.

She stepped toward them, mouth drawn in a line thin, hands clasped together. She stared at the ground between them. “Both of you, dressing room. _Now_.”

The elation of finally kissing Lance dissipated at the coldness in Allura’s voice, and for a moment, he wished he’d never done it at all. Then Lance reached for his hand and began pulling him backstage, and all was well again. Nothing, not even their enraged ballet teacher, could ruin this night for him.

A few moments later, Allura followed them inside, shutting the door behind her. Tight lipped, she paced in front of them, hands behind her back as her brow furrowed and smoothed out about twenty times per second as she thought out what to say to them. She was silent for so long Keith decided to just apologize and hope for the best.

“I’m—” Keith started, but a raised finger on Allura’s part silenced him instantly. He cringed. Yeah, he screwed up, but it didn’t feel like he did. He glanced at Lance, who was staring at Allura curiously, but at the same time, looking far more relaxed than he had in weeks. Keith tried to hide his smirk.

“I’m not going to ask why you thought eating each other’s faces on stage was a good idea,” Allura went on. “Because, obviously, you weren’t thinking. If you were, you’d realize that you just drove away the scouts outside that’ve been eyeing you”—she pointed to Lance—“for months. You…” She trailed off, then reached up to bridge her hands over her nose. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. “Lance,” she hissed. “You didn’t.”

Lance blinked at her innocently. “Did what?”

She pointed to Keith. “You planned all of this, didn’t you? You were that afraid of the scouts? Oh, Lance… I told you that—”

Keith opened his mouth to object, that this was all his doing, but Lance wrapped an arm around Keith’s shoulder before he could, pulling him closer. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he told Allura. “Hey it’s not our fault we can’t keep our hands off each other. If you want to blame anyone, take a look in the mirror. Pairing us two handsome boys together?” He winked at her. “Should have known better.”

Heat rose to Keith’s cheeks, and if Lance didn’t pull away soon, he was sure they were going to melt off. _He thinks I’m handsome?_

Allura dragged her hands down her face, groaning. “Okay, you know what? Fine. Fine! For now, I’ll handle all of the scouts—tell them you’re not interested and want to finish up the year. That being said, I better not see any other crap like that again, do you hear me? Any more stunts like that and no company will want you. And trust me, eventually, you _will_ need a company. That is if you want a career in ballet. And I’m talking about both of you.”

With a stern eye, she hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Silence filled the room shortly after, and Lance slipped his arm from Keith’s shoulder. Keith swallowed hard. “Um…”

“Oh, Keith, buddy, that was genius!” Lance said, eyes gleaming. “That was… that was amazing! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself!”

Keith blinked at him. “Think of… what?”

Lance hurried up to him and grabbed his arms, squeezing them. “The kiss! It was _perfect_! Like hell were they going to recruit me after that little stunt. No way!” He laughed heartily as he pulled away to the makeup table. He started taking off the cape to his costume and loosened the collar of his blouse, then ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it more than it already was from all of the dancing he did on stage. He glanced back at him, smirking, but his lips down-turned as he centered his gaze on Keith, who could only imagine how he looked like right now. He could feel tears coming on, and he felt like he’d been stabbed straight through the heart, and for a second, he swore he had been. Because this kind of pain couldn’t just be from a heartbreak, right?

Lance stepped back, then parted his lips to say something. “Keith… that kiss... it was just for show… right?”

Keith should have said yes; it was his out. An out to having to confront these stupid feelings of his, the ones that’ve been plaguing him for months, no years. He should have said yes.

But he didn’t.

“No,” he replied, voice cracking. “Did… did you want it to be?”

Holding his breath, Keith watched Lance’s every move. The ball was in his court now; he’d thrown it, hard, and it was too late to take it back, despite how much he wished he could. Then again, he was tired of being uncertain about Lance’s feelings for him. He needed to know.

Lance’s eyes widened, and he stared at Keith for much longer than he should have given what he’d just been asked. _Say something_ , he urged.

Then again, maybe not saying anything at all was his way of telling him the truth. That he wasn’t interested. That he never would be.

“Just forget it,” Keith growled, hating how wrecked his voice sounded. He hurried past him, but Lance snatched his wrist before he could get to the door. Keith tried to tug it free, but Lance was strong—years of ballet would do that to a guy.

Keith stopped in his tracks; on some level, he was glad he stopped him. It meant he cared, but then again, maybe not in the way he wanted him too. “Just let me go," Keith whispered, defeated, gaze dead centered on the door.

Then Lance spun him around until they were only a breath away from one another, and before Keith could react, Lance slid his hands in his hair and pulled him into a kiss.

It was soft at first, timid, as though asking for permission, and Keith eagerly gave it to him, leaning forward and nipping and suckling on his bottom lip, deepening the kiss as far as he could before Lance pulled away suddenly, breathless.

Gulping for air, Lance tightened his grip against the back of Keith’s head, but he kept his gaze downwards, only allowing himself a peek at Keith as he said, “No, I didn’t want it to be staged.”

Holy shit. Holy. Shit. Lance… he… he _liked him back_. “Yeah?” Keith asked.

Licking his lips, he nodded. “Keith, I’m not going to lie, I… I want this. I want you. I have for a while now…”

Jesus fucking Christ. Did he really just say all of that? Keith’s heart was going to burst straight out of his chest if he kept going like this.

“But… we can’t be together.”

_… What?_

Lance said something else, but Keith couldn’t hear him over the sound of his heart breaking.

Lance pulled away, and Keith almost whimpered from the loss of contact. “But…” God, was he whining? He cleared his throat, trying to clamp down on his emotions, but they were bubbling over like mad, and he couldn’t stop them. “But you just said that you wanted this…”

“And I do,” Lance reassured, shaking his head. “But… but it’s complicated.”

“What’s so complicated about it?” Keith asked, stepping closer. God, he couldn’t get this far with Lance only to backtrack now. He couldn’t! “Lance, please, tell me. We like each other, right? Well then that should be enough!” He took Lance’s hand and entwined with his own, gripping it harder than he meant to. He tried to grasp Lance’s other hand, but Lance pulled it upwards before he could, redirecting Keith’s hand against his hipbone, and with that… Lance snapped.

“Just get off me, alright!” he shouted, shoving Keith away.

Keith stumbled backward, catching himself on the makeup chair. He gripped the back of it to right himself, and once he did, he stared hard at Lance; he’d never seen him this angry, and Keith didn’t even realize exactly what he did to make him so. “Lance…” Keith said softly. “I—I’m sorry, I just…”

But Lance wasn’t listening anymore. He kept shaking his head back and forth, eyes shut tight, breath shallow. “No, no, no…” he muttered, gripping his hair. With a shuddered breath, he hurried past Keith and bolted out the door, leaving it wide open.

For the longest time, Keith gawked at the open doorway, too stunned to move. He didn’t know how much time had passed, nor did he remember moving to the floor, gripping the chair’s legs like they were a lifeboat. He just knew that things could not have gone worse. Just what hell had happened? One minute they were kissing, the next he was being pushed back like some rabid animal. Lance looked at him like some predator, for God’s sake. What… why… how…

“Keith?”

He didn’t bother looking up; he knew it was Pidge.

He heard small footsteps approach, then Pidge’s face appeared in front of him, brow pinched in concern. “Hey, you… you okay? We saw Lance storm out with Allura just a few minutes ago. Said he wasn’t taking the bus back to school. Did… did something happen between you two?”

Keith knew things were bad when Pidge—of all people—was being gentle with him, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I honestly have no idea.”

Pidge parted their lips, then snapped their mouth shut. They took a seat next to him, silent, and continued to be until Keith had the strength to lift himself onto his feet. Which wasn’t for a very, very long time.

 

The next day, Keith didn’t go to class. And after hearing word from his messenger pigeon (aka Pidge) neither did Lance.

“He didn’t?” Keith asked them as he pulled his pillow to his chest. He hadn’t left his bed all day, having spent all last night replaying that stupid scene between him and Lance, barely getting any sleep in the process. So, he called out sick. He spent the rest of the day basically wallowing in self-pity and depression while he waited for Pidge to visit, just so they could hurry up and tell him how Lance had been like in practice, if he seemed okay, only to find out he never actually showed.

— _get off me!_ —

Cringing, Keith rubbed his eyes. “Lance seriously didn’t show up?” he asked Pidge.

Pidge shrugged. “Yup, and we have no idea where he is, either. We all called him like, twice, but he hasn’t answered.” Pidge scratched the back of their head. “Keith, it’s rare for him to miss practice, same goes for you… What the hell happened between you two? That kiss… I thought things were going to be okay with you two. I thought things would be more than okay with you two, actually, considering his reaction. So, what happened?”

Keith sighed. The memory of them from last night was already seared into his brain, so it wasn’t like retelling it out loud would make him feel any worse. “Last night, after we kissed, I basically confessed to him in the dressing room, and he said he liked me back! Then we kissed again, and I thought everything was going to be okay, but then all of a sudden, he told me he couldn’t be with me. That we couldn’t be together, and I tried to reason with him, I tried, but he wouldn’t listen, so I reached for his hand and he pushed me away and stormed out.” Alright, maybe repeating the details out loud did make him feel worse. Keith groaned loudly and flopped on his side. “I screwed everything up.”

Pidge shook their head. “I doubt that.”

“Well I don’t know!” Keith argued. “It was because of me that he didn’t come to class! I’m the reason he—”

“You don’t know that,” Pidge interjected. “Listen for a second: Lance likes you. It’s a fact. Did you see his face on stage after you kissed him? I’d never seen anyone so disgustingly infatuated with someone. He lit up like the Fourth of July in Tennessee. No, there’s gotta be something more going on with him.”  
“Like what?”

Pidge shrugged. “No idea. Guess that’s for you to find out.” Pidge patted his shoulder, and with a nod, left the room.

Keith sighed. Guess it was. Groaning, he pried himself from bed, yanked on some shoes, and headed out the door, phone in hand as he tried to call Lance. He knew he wasn’t going to answer (he hoped he did, but he was being realistic) so he supposed he should be on his feet, ready to go, if he did. But since he didn’t, like he knew he would, he spent the rest of the day looking for Lance. He circled the town twice. The school? Well, he stopped counting after ten. He would have gone to his house, but he didn’t even know where that was.

At sunset, he’d given up completely. He dragged himself through the halls, because where else was he supposed to go? His dorm? No, it was better to just hang around school, maybe he’d come across Lance. He did say he came at night to practice sometimes, and given he wasn’t in class today, he was almost positive that he was there now. Only one way to find out.

Once he got to their practice room, Keith peeked his head around the doorway before entering the room, just in case Lance was there so he wouldn’t surprise him. And there he was. He was facing the mirror wall, hands resting on the bar. He was dressed in simple sweatpants pulled up to his knees, and a long-sleeved T-shirt, as well as plain black dance shoes. He had his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling steadily. He then slowly lifted himself onto the tips of his toes, holding himself up for at least ten seconds before slowly falling back on his heels. He repeated this pattern for a good five minutes, all while Keith watched, reverencing. He knew there was a major difference between their levels of dance—there was no competition. Lance was working with years and years of experience. He could balance on his toes. That took strength Keith could only hoped to obtain one day.

Keith held his breath as Lance finished with his exercise. With a long sigh, he went to grab his dance bag and turned toward the door, then froze on sight as he saw Keith. “K—Keith,” he squeaked, then abruptly cleared his throat. “Um, how long have you been there?”

“Just got here,” Keith answered, taking a small step into the room. “Been looking for you…” He took another step forward, but stopped there, making sure a good amount of distance was between them. Last time Keith came close to Lance, he almost got decked in the process. “Look, Lance, about yesterday, whatever I did, I’m so—”

“Stop.” Lance tightened his grip around the strap of his dance bag. “Stop, it, it wasn’t you, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong. I just…” Lance shook his head, tilting it back to look up at the ceiling.

“Just?” Keith prompted gently.

Breathing in, Lance took to the floor, as though his legs had given out from under him. He sat crisscross, burrowing his head in his hands. “I don’t think I can tell you, Keith. You’ll never look at me the same.”

Despite the fear that trickled into Keith as Lance said that, it didn’t stop him from kneeling down and saying, “Lance, you can talk to me. No matter what, I’m your friend first.”

Lance looked up at him, studied him, really. Then, finally, he shook his head. “Not here. We can’t do this here.”

So, Keith led him back to his dorm. When they got there, Lance pulled his knees to his chest as he sat on Keith’s bed, refusing to look at him. Keith sat across from him, wary of getting too close. He waited for him to talk, but minutes passed where Lance just stayed silent. “Um…”

“You can’t say anything until I’m done talking, got it?” Lance eyed him. “Promise me.”

Keith nodded. “Okay, I promise.”

Scrutinizing him, Lance tightened his arms around his knees, like a viper squeezing around its prey. He dug his nails into the smooth flesh of his forearms as he did so, nearly breaking skin. But despite how tense he looked, with a deep breath, he began.

“Since I was twelve, Allura has been tutoring me in ballet. One day, she got a job offer in New York, and she took me with her. I was there for about three years before I got accepted early into a company, the…” He swallowed hard. “The Arlag Theater of New York.

“It had a reputation of being one of the most hard-pressed companies in the city, but I thought I could do it, you know? I was prepared to do anything to make sure I exceeded. It was my _shot_ Keith. Do you know how excited my parents were when I called and told them I _made_ it? That I was going to be paid to do what I loved? It was the happiest day of my life when I got accepted.” He shook his head savagely. “I didn’t realize it would be the biggest mistake of my life.

“The first week there, I… I was struggling a little bit! Everyone was older and stronger and I could hardly keep up. Almost a month went by, and even though I had gotten better, I was still super behind everyone else. Our first show was coming up, and my teacher came up to me and said that I wasn’t going to be a part of it if I couldn’t master the routine by the end of the week. A freakin’ _week_. Sure, right now that’s not a problem, but back then I needed at least three. I knew I wouldn’t be able to learn it all, and do it well, in just five days. I couldn’t! But that was the show my family was coming up to see; it was the show my mom had to work double to pay for all my family’s plane tickets. So, I panicked. I asked my teacher what I could do to be in the show. I begged him, really. Told him I’d do anything. And… I did.”

Lance brought his hand up to cover the side of his face, voice beginning to strain. “I… I…” Growling, he punched the wall. “I slept with him, alright?!” he yelled, defensive, eyes wild with shame. “I slept with him and got in the show, and I felt sick for weeks, okay? So sick that I eventually confessed to my roommate about it.” He puffed out a sardonic laugh. “And you know what he said? He said, ‘So?’ Because apparently, he’d done it too. In fact, he said he didn’t know a single dancer that hadn't passed through one of their choreographer’s beds to get a part. I, I couldn’t believe it. So dancers didn’t get parts based off their talent, but how good they were in bed? What kind of sick logic is that?” Lance was silent for a moment, taking slow, deep breaths before he went on. “I had never felt so betrayed by ballet before. But I figured, well, I would just have to work twice as hard to be good enough to get parts. That my _dancing_ would have to be enough… But it wasn’t.

“Another month went by, and while I was improving, so was everyone else. I couldn’t catch up. It was then that my teacher came up and told me that, at this rate, I would be kicked out of the _company_. Keith I…” He shut his eyes, and covered his face with both hands. “I was stupid, so, so stupid. I should have quit right there and then, but I didn’t because I thought that, well, if this is what all companies are like, then what’s the point of quitting if I’m going to be treated like this anywhere else I go? I felt trapped, so I stayed, and I… kept getting parts. I eventually got a lead role once, and it was… Oh, God, it was amazing Keith. Being in the spotlight… it was the best thing I’d ever known, and it was the one time I ever truly felt happy in the company, and not like complete scum. So I kept… doing what I was doing. I didn’t think I could stoop any lower until the formal gala the company put on.

“It was this formal gathering for the patrons of the arts. And you know what our choreographer and directors and even the _headmaster_ of that shitty school pushed us to do? _Sleep_ with them, persuade them to give the school more money, otherwise, our roles would be at risk. They didn’t exactly say it, but we all knew it was true.” Lance shook his head, eyes glazing over, and the shame that had washed over him suddenly drained away, instead replaced with a brokenness Keith had never seen before. “Honestly, I was so far gone at that point I just did what they said. I had already done everything else they told me to do.

“A year went by, and galas and shows and more galas and more shows went on, and I thought… life would be like this forever. Then Allura came to visit. She had been busy teaching, and given everything I was doing, I had pushed her away a long ass time ago. Told her I didn’t need her anymore. But then she surprised me with a visit." Lance snorted. "Well, ‘visit’ probably isn’t the best word. Interrogation is more fitting. She asked why I hadn’t been returning her calls, or why I had refused to see her in over a year. And I just… broke down.” Tears trickled down Lance’s broken face, and he didn’t even bother to wipe them away. “I told her everything, and she got me out of there.” Tipping his head back, Lance shook away the tears and ran the back of his hand under his nose. “Anyway, pretty sure that’s why I freaked out on you. It wasn’t you Keith, but when we kissed, and when we kept kissing… and the touching and the grabbing, it just reminded me of all the times where I… ya know.” He cleared his throat. “Keith, I want to be together, but… we’d have to take it slow. Like, molasses kind of slow…” Suddenly, panic flashed across his face, then despair. “That is… if you still want to be with me…”

Keith didn’t skip a beat. He scooted closer and laid his palm next to Lance’s—just in case he wanted to hold it. He opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped, because what he was going to say would pale in comparison to what he’d wanted to tell him all this time. Slowly, Keith inched off the bed, reaching over to his nightstand and into the drawer, pulling out a pamphlet. He turned back to Lance and placed it in his hand.

“What’s this?” Lance asked, grazing his fingers over the cover.

“That”—Keith tapped the title—“is the pamphlet I got for your show five years ago. The Nutcracker and the Mouse King.” His gaze softened as the look of shock overlapped Lance’s face. “Shiro dragged me along. He wanted to impress Allura by going, I think, and he wanted me to be… I dunno, more cultured. I remember just how much I hated being there… then I saw you.” Keith smiled at him, and the memory of Lance’s twelve-year-old face came into view. “And when I saw you… you were…” Keith could already feel himself swelling with emotion, so he kept it short. “I knew you were special, and I knew I needed to be with you. I didn’t know in what _way_ , but I do now.” He took a risk and rested his palm over Lance’s hand. “I’ve wanted this forever, Lance, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Lance blinked at him, stunned, then his whole face crumpled. Tears pools down his cheeks, and he leaned forward, resting his head in the crook of Keith’s neck. Keith wrapped his arms around him and held him tight as he cried for what seemed like hours. And that was okay with Keith, because at that point, he would have done anything to ease Lance’s pain.

 

The next morning, Keith woke up with Lance beside him.

It would have been weird to say that statement aloud, but witnessing it felt like the most natural thing in the world. They must have passed out sometime last night, too emotionally spent to even drape a blanket over themselves. Keith watched Lance through half-lidded eyes as he slept. Lance’s own eyes were still puffy, and his hair was in complete disarray, but still, did he look perfect. He looked so vulnerable, so precious… and it made Keith wonder how the _fuck_ somehow could abuse him in the way they did.

After hearing Lance confess all of what had happened to him, Keith had never felt so sick in his life. He was glad Lance had refused to look at him. Otherwise, he would have seen the look of horror that’d crossed Keith’s face. He’d never felt such rage in his life, such repulsion—not with Lance, but what was done to him. Just thinking about it made Keith want to destroy everything in his path. If Lance hadn’t stayed with him last night, he knew he would have. But right now, Lance was asleep, and he needed to know if all of this could have been prevented.

After draping one of his blankets over Lance, Keith silently slipped out of the room and headed for Allura’s office. He had visited once to talk about classes, but today he had another topic in mind. It was still early, so he sat outside the door until she got there. After what seemed like hours, he heard footsteps approach. “Keith?” Allura asked, keys in hand.

Keith’s jaw clenched as she approached. “ _How_ ,” he started in a low voice, “could you let someone do that to him?”

Allura understood immediately. “So he told you.”

Keith sprang to his feet as Allura moved past him to unlock the door. “You—you could have stopped it!” Keith went on as he followed her inside. “You could have—”

“What?” Allura snapped as she slammed her purse on top of her desk. “What could I have done, Keith?” The ferocity in her voice made Keith cringe, and he knew from her tone that she felt just as responsible for what happened to Lance as Keith accused her of being. “Keith, you’re angry. I get it. You want someone to blame, and if you need that to be me, fine. But trust me, no one could have predicted that would happen to Lance.”

“But could it have been? You seriously didn’t hear anything about that company before Lance went there?”

“No, Keith, I didn’t. If I had, do you seriously think I would have let him go?”

No, he didn’t, and he felt horrible for accusing her of doing so, but… but… “Are all companies really like this?” he asked in a small voice.

“No,” Allura reassured him. “The only other company I heard where this happened was in Moscow, and—”

“Wait, so you have heard of companies doing this?”

“ _Company_. And—”

“And that means if it happens there, and it happens here, then who knows how many more there are that do this sort of thing! No wonder Lance felt trapped! Why hasn’t anyone done anything about it? Is the Arlag Theater still up and running?”

Allura pinched the brim of her nose. “Yes.”

Keith threw his hands up. “Well why hasn’t anyone taken any action? Like turn in the teachers that mistreated Lance? He was a minor, for god’s sake!”

But Allura only shook her head. “We managed to press charges against the man that manipulated Lance, yes—that’s basically what our last year in New York consisted of before we got here, but the company as a whole? No. There were too many students who denied being accused of being pushed to perform sexual acts with patrons, and no one came up to confess; it was probably because those dancers were either not ready to confess, or they didn’t think their voice mattered, considering they weren’t minors, like Lance. The only reason we managed to put Lance’s choreographer in jail was due to another young man—Lance’s roommate at Arlag—who defended his accusation.” Looking defeated, Allura fell back in her office chair and rubbed her temples. “I did everything I could, Keith,” she whispered.

You should have done more, he wanted to say, but he knew in the hollow of his bones that she couldn’t have. She was right—he just wanted someone to blame. “How is he ever going to trust a company again?” he asked her quietly.

Allura shrugged meekly. “We’re just going to have to help him get through it.”

Yeah, but that would be easier said than done.

 

Later, before Lance could wake up, Keith slipped back into bed next to him. He stirred awake a second later. His eyes fluttered open, gaze landing directly on Keith. He blinked a couple of times, then sat upright, examining the room. “Ah, man…” he rubbed his eyes. “We fell asleep.”

“Sure did,” Keith whispered. How was it that he always looked so good? Even with bedhead and puffy eyes, he was the most adorable thing Keith had ever seen.

Lance caught him staring, then rolled his eyes. “I know—I look like shit. If I knew I was sleeping over, I would have brought my face mask.”

“You wear a face mask to bed?”

Lance snorted. “And you don’t?”

“Not in this lifetime.”

Lance huffed, stretching his arms over his head. Keith glanced at the clock. “You can still sleep if you want. Class doesn’t start until three today.”

Shaking his head, Lance scooted near the edge of the bed. “I should get home. You know, clean up a little.”

“I have a bathroom,” Keith said. “You can clean up here. You can borrow some clothes, too. It really wouldn’t be a big deal. Then we can get breakfast and chill before class. Maybe even practice a little.”

Lance glanced back at him, a sour look on his face. “See, this is what I didn’t want, for you to start _babying _me.”__

__Keith stared at him, confused. “I’m not? I just thought…”_ _

__“Thought that you’d start treating me better just because I told you my sad sob story,” Lance grumbled. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. Because I didn’t want you to start looking at me like I’m… like I’m some broken thing you need to make sure doesn’t break even further.”_ _

__Whoa, okay, hold up. Where did that come from? Keith sat upright and scooted closer to Lance, making sure he was looking him in the eye. “I’m… I’m not. Trust me, if anyone knows what it’s like to be looked at as damaged, it’s me. And also…” Keith tapped his knee. “You are not some ‘broken thing.’ You got it? Yes, you’ve been through some shit, but that doesn’t mean it has to define you.” Keith shrugged. “I just thought it’d more convenient for you if you stayed here until class. That, and… I dunno, I want to spend more time with you….”_ _

__He regretted the words the second he said them, only because of how red he felt his face get after they were out in the open. He turned his head away, eyes widening as Lance planted a peck on his cheek before heading for the bathroom. “Be out in a sec!”_ _

__Keith pressed a hand to his cheek, growing warmer and warmer by the second. Feeling like he was going to explode, he flopped back onto the bed and pulled a pillow over his face._ _

_This boy will be the death of me._

__But then again, he couldn’t think of a better way to go._ _

__

__Class that day started out like any other. That is until Allura walked in and said she was going out of town for three months._ _

__“Whoa what?” Pidge asked, saying aloud what everyone else was thinking. “You’re going to be gone until July? That’s when show seasons ends!”_ _

__“I know,” Allura went on. “But I was offered an opportunity to help choreograph a big show a couple towns over.” She planted her hands on her hips, as though daring anyone to object to her going. “Don’t give me that look. I’m only going because I know the perfect person to take my place while I’m gone.”_ _

__Lance crossed his arms, defiance marked all over him. “And that would be?”_ _

__Allura gestured to the door, where suddenly, an orange-haired man with a mustache half the size of his face basically exploded through it, performing a perfect pirouette and landing lightly on his toes. He outstretched a hand to the class, using the other one to pinch at the edge of his… just _massive_ handlebar mustache. “’ello! Name’s Coran.” He hopped—literally hopped—onto his feet, then stretched an arm out to the group. “Honored to make your acquaintance!”_ _

__Keith just stared at Coran, and given how no one else was saying anything, he assumed they all were too. Finally, Lance asked Allura, in a voice bereft of all fight, “Why are you doing this to us?”_ _

__Allura patted Coran on the shoulder. “Coran is the man who taught me how to dance, so if you insult him, you’re insulting my capabilities as a dancer.” She smiled at them then. “He’s in town and offered to help, and trust me, you want his help. He already knows the choreography for all of the shows for show season, so you don’t have to worry about that. But, before I go, I do have a slight cast adjustment to the newest show coming up.” She looked to Lance. “We have a new student coming in tomorrow, and he will be the star lead of our next performance. Lance, Keith, because of your little stunt, you’ll be in the back.”_ _

__For a second, Keith’s heart nearly stopped, and not because he wasn’t going to be lead, but because Lance wasn’t going to be lead. He knew how much being in the spotlight meant to him, and things were already off kilter with him. One more push and he was afraid Lance was going to lose it again.__

 _ _Biting his lip, Keith glanced over to him, but to his surprise, he didn’t seem to mind at all. Along with appearing tired, he also looked, well, relieved by the news. That’s when Keith realized that Allura wasn’t doing this out of spite, or to punish them, really, but to take the pressure off of Lance in regards to the scouts that would be appearing at their shows. Smart._ _

__“Who’s the new guy?” Pidge asked._ _

Allura took out a sheet of paper from her pocket, then squinted. “Ah, crap…” She peered harder at the paper; Keith craned his neck and saw that the writing on it was smudged. Giving up, Allura tossed it aside and said, “I don’t know the name, but I saw his resume and he’s performed at many different schools, and was declared the best dancer at each of them, so I’m confident that he’ll do our showcase justice. He’ll be here tomorrow, so I expect everyone to greet him properly. Understand?” 

Everyone was hesitant at first, but then they all nodded, murmuring in fear induced agreement. Allura took it. “Alright, everyone in positions then.” 

Coran and Allura taught them a lot that class. Coran… Jeez, how the hell did he describe how Coran taught? He was a complete wild card. He had more energy than any dancer Keith had ever seen, and his height while jumping was incredible. He surpassed Lance, their best dancer there, and it made Keith confident in knowing he’d be the one to take Allura’s place for the rest of show season. 

__When class finished, they headed over to Hunk’s costume design room deep within the school to help with, well, costumes for their next showcase._ _

__“Who do you think the new guy is?” Pidge asked as they helped Hunk sew on some jewels to a leotard. Keith and Lance had been assigned to ‘fluff’ the tutus, but the more Keith did so, the more he realized that Hunk probably assigned them this task because he didn’t think they could handle a harder job, and given the fact that Lance was currently in a blue sparkling tutu, admiring himself in the mirror, he was smarter than Keith gave him credit for._ _

__“Who cares,” Lance commented as he adjusted the tutu around his waist. “What we should care about is why guys don’t wear tutus in ballet. I look amazing.”_ _

__“If he’s already getting the lead part, then he must be one hell of a dancer,” Pidge went on._ _

__“And here I thought Lance would be throwing the biggest fit of his life,” Hunk commented as he glanced back at him. “You’re seriously okay with not having the lead role?”_ _

__Lance shrugged. “Hey, man, can’t have the spotlight all the time,” he said as he brought down a pink tutu over his head, letting it hang around his neck. “I’ll let this guy—whoever he is—enjoy it. For now.”_ _

__Hunk laughed, but Keith couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on him for a moment. “Hey,” he started, “you two doing okay? Last night…”  
He didn’t need to elaborate. But Lance nodded, flashing a small smile Keith’s way. “Yeah, yeah we’re good.”_ _

__Keith smiled back at him, and he could hear the tension in Hunk’s voice subside. But only a little. “You sure?” he asked again, specifically to Lance._ _

__Lance took the tutu off his head, winking at Keith. “Yup. It’s all behind me—my problems are in the past.”_ _

__And with that, Hunk was convinced. He was sharp, and he knew from Lance’s tone when he was lying--Keith picked up on that long ago. “Well, good.”  
__

__Suddenly, a knock came from the door. Hunk answered it, smiling at a woman on the other side as she handed him a manila envelope. When Hunk got back to his desk, Pidge cocked their head at him and asked, “What’s that?”_ _

__Hunk shook the folder. “Oh just measurement of the new guy. A few photos for reference of what will look good on him for when I start designing his costume.”_ _

__Everyone froze. “Wait,” Keith started. “In that folder, you have pictures of the new guy?”_ _

__Hunk paused. “Well, yeah?”_ _

__Keith, Lance, and Pidge looked at each other, their curiosity getting the better of them. Simultaneously, everyone bolted to Hunk, scrambling over a sea of tutus in the process. Pidge got the envelope first, given they were closer, snatching it away and opening it up. “Huh,” Pidge said as they examined the photo. “Never seen him before. Here I thought he’d be someone famous.”_ _

__Keith leaned over the desk and took the photo from them, but before he could have a chance to fully examine it, Lance gasped._ _

__“Lance, buddy?” Hunk asked. “You okay?”_ _

__But Lance wasn’t okay. That was evident by how he backed up from the photo, shaking his head. Keith dropped the photo back down. “Lance, Lance, what’s wrong?” He followed Lance’s gaze, noticing it was centered straight on the photo. Keith picked it back up. “Do you… do you know this guy?”_ _

__And Lance nodded, voice tremulous as he said, “Y—yeah. He was… he was my roommate—”_ _

__Keith’s eyes widened, and before Lance could finish his sentence, he knew._ _

__“—at Arlag.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who had been actively waiting for this chapter, read it, then asked themselves, "I waited this long for _this_?" I am... very sorry, 'cause, well, same :,D
> 
> YEAH this month was a rough one. Work/school were a lot harder to juggle than I thought, so anytime I had time to write, I was already dead tired. School ends soon so I know I will have more time to write, and hopefully save this fan-fic from the trashy writing I conjured, because damn. I knew from the start what had happened to Lance in New York, but when I went to write it out, it just... I dunno, I felt like I was betraying the overall tone of the story, and to some I'm sure that I am, so, again, I apologize.  
> (Here's the article in which I had the idea for it, which also features the ballet company in Russia Allura mentions : http://world.time.com/2013/11/13/american-ballerina-quits-bolshoi-accuses-theater-of-extortion/)
> 
> SO UH. If you readers didn't lose interest, I actively encourage criticism and possibly comment on what ballet you would like me to write out for the upcoming chapter?? fsalkdfja thanks to all of you for waiting, and again, sorry to disappoint if I did so. 
> 
> My trash [twitter](https://twitter.com/Renommuss)
> 
> ANd my extra trashy [tumblr](http://renommus.tumblr.com/)


	10. The Fall of The Fairy's Tale

Lance thought he’d escaped his past.

The mantra, "One cannot escape their past" had sounded like a challenge to Lance after he escaped the hell he’d been thrown into at Arlag. It was a challenge he'd been determined to conquer, one he thought he’d conquered. He thought he’d started new at Altea—no one knew about what had happened in New York, and they never would, not unless Lance told them. Given he was a minor, his name was never released to the public after he pressed charges. The only people who knew exactly what happened were those who used him, and those he told: Allura, Keith… and his old roommate.

The roommate who was coming to Altea.

He thought he started over. He thought he could escape his past. He’d been sure of it. Lance thought he’d left all of that behind him.

Well, he thought wrong.

“Lance? Lance!”

It was as though he was jerked from his sleep, only to wake up to a horrendously more painful nightmare. He looked to Keith, whose concern and worry practically reverberated off of him.

“Hey, buddy, what’s wrong?” Hunk was at his side now, then Pidge, their contrasting sizes—Hunk, towering, Pidge, well, short as hell, comforting, but at the same time only added to his stress. They had no idea why he was so freaked out, and it wasn’t long until he would be forced to tell them.

“What do you mean your roommate at Arlag?” Pidge and Hunk asked next, and Lance winced, because even the name of that place made the hatred induced fire in his heart ignite and pump harder and faster in his chest, causing scorching flames to course through his veins. He opened his mouth. To speak? Possibly. He couldn’t remember. That’s definitely not what he did. The only thing he managed to push out from between his lips was air. And not even Keith could come to his rescue. He only looked at Lance, because what could he say that would make this better? Nothing.

There was no escape from this, and whether he liked it or not, he had to tell them about what happened.

So he did.

He tried to keep it as short as possible, not only to spare them of the details, but to spare himself from reliving them. He looked to his feet the whole time, and when he was done, he barely caught a glance at Hunk as he stormed toward the door.

“Whoa, Hunk, what are you doing? Hunk!”

Lance got to the door before he did, blocking it with his body. It was then that he met Hunk’s eyes. They were burning with a ferocity that scared him to his core, and the fact that that look was coming from Hunk, his big, sunshine boy/marshmallow child, terrified him even more. And here he thought Hunk would burst into tears, or coddle him like his mother did after she found out, but he didn’t. No, he was out for blood.

“ _I_ ,” Hunk started, fists clenching at his side, “am going to kill who did this to you.”

And boy did he mean it. “Hunk, wait, wait. The guy, my teacher, he’s already gone—he got what was coming to him, trust me. Hunk, it’s been handled.”

“Well then what about him?” Pidge snarled as they threw his roommate's photo back down on Hunk’s desk. “Did he hurt you too? Is that why you look so scared that he’s coming here?”

Lance raised his hands up, partly to soothe them, partly for his own defense. “No, guys, he didn’t do anything wrong. He…” Lance swallowed what felt like a basketball. “He was just as much a victim as I was.”

“Then why are you scared that he’s coming?” Hunk asked him.

Lance was at a loss for words. There were plenty of reasons why he didn’t want him here. First and foremost, he didn’t want to see his face every day. It’s not like he had a bad face, from what he could remember, it’s that his face would always be a reminder of his time at Arlag. Those nights he came back to his dorm from a gala, or his teacher’s room, to see the curious, and sometimes pained look on his roommate’s face, knowing what he’d just come back from… it was burned into his memory. His face, his presence, would always correlate with his actions at that company. But, rather than expressing all of this to them, he said this, “I just thought I’d left all of that in New York. I didn’t realize that parts of it would follow me here.” Lance shrugged half-heartedly. “I thought I was safe.”

“And you are.” This time, it was Keith that spoke. He walked forward until he was beside Hunk and Pidge, forming a sort of oddly endearing blockage. “Lance, we’re not going to let anything or anyone”—Keith motioned to the picture—“hurt you, okay?” 

Lance followed his hand, breath stuttering as he caught a glimpse of his old roommate’s face. He tried to swallow, feeling as though he was trying to push down a gobstopper. When he did so, he summoned enough strength to give them a reassuring smile; his default setting. If he couldn’t make himself feel better, he could at least put everyone else at ease. He hated causing trouble, and making his friends worry wasn’t going to solve anything. “Thanks, guys, but… but it’ll be fine! The news just caught me off guard; I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m sure things are going to be okay.”

And he could only pray that was true.

 

The rest of that night they spent attending to costumes with Hunk. Well, sort of.

After the big ol’ “reveal” of what happened to him, Hunk suddenly declared he needed assistance with, like, fifty thousand more costumes, and he needed every one of them there to help. Lance knew it was just a ploy to make sure he wasn’t alone tonight, and he was grateful. To just… be there with his friends, friends he didn’t have to hide anything from anymore, was more than he could have asked for. Around three, Keith fell asleep in the pile of tutus on the floor, and at four, Pidge fell asleep at Hunk’s workbench half way through gluing on jeweled patterns to the side of a leotard, the little bottle of superglue still in their hand. Lance eyed the bottle, and thinking it’d be funny (to him, anyway), he slipped the bottle from their grasp and then proceeded to squeeze out lines of glue on the sides of Pidge’s fingers, only to push them together before it dried. Hunk sat beside him at the sewing machine, the soft repeating pattern of the needle hitting fabric the only sound running between them.

“Pidge is going to kill you when they wake up,” Hunk commented with a small smirk.

Lance grinned as he pushed Pidge’s index and middle finger together, the glue between them drying a second later. “Hey, Hunk,” Lance said quietly, wary of waking up the person attached to his soon to be masterpiece. “Thanks for tonight.”

Hunk snorted as he adjusted the fabric running through his machine. “What are you talking about? I needed help with costumes.”

Lance rolled his eyes, but his grin never left his face. Riiight. “Alrighy, bud. Whatever you say.”

They were silent a moment longer. Lance worked on sealing the rest of Pidge’s fingers together while Hunk did something equally productive. But eventually, Hunk addressed what Lance was hoping would stay buried between them. “Lance…” he started, and in the pit of Lance’s stomach, he knew what was to come. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Despite how hard he steeled himself for it, Lance still cringed at the question, more specifically the raw hurt in Hunk’s voice after asking it. Sighing, Lance capped the glue and sat back against his chair. “How could I, Hunk? It’s not something you bring up in casual conversation.”

Hunk closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly, then giving Lance a firm nod. “I know. God, I know, I just… I’m so sorry.”

Next thing he knew, Hunk brought Lance into a giant bear hug, squeezing him tight. Warmth flooded through Lance, and he wondered how the hell he’d managed to procure the best friends in the world.

“Thanks, buddy,” he told Hunk as they parted. “But you don’t have to apologize.” His gaze flicked to Keith, sleeping soundly on a pillow of tutus. A smile found its way onto Lance’s lips. “I’m okay.”

Hunk nodded to Keith. “I’m guessing things are good between you two? He treating you okay?”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh at that. Okay? Keith was treating him better than he deserved, given all he’d done. “Things are perfect,” Lance said with unwavering confidence. “ _He’s_ perfect.”

That brought a smile to Hunk’s face. His hand moved to Lance’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. Lance smiled back, but before he knew it, that safe little bubble between them popped as soon as Lance spotted the clock hanging above the door. It was almost 6:00am, and in nearly five hours, they’d have their new student.

— _Oh, Lance_ —

A small wave of nausea washed over Lance, then another, then another—each one stronger than the last, the lull between them shortening until he felt as if he was drowning in his own anxiety and despair.

He got up abruptly, nearly tipping his chair back in the process. “I’m going to get some air.” Lance patted Pidge’s hand and Hunk’s back simultaneously and managed to withstand from hauling ass out of there until he made it down the hall. Once he was there, he took off without a moment’s hesitation. He didn’t know where to go, or honestly what he was even doing, but he knew he couldn’t face going to class today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that. In fact. Maybe he’d never go back! It’d make things easier. Maybe he could transfer to another school, start over again. He did it before.

_Yeah, but you didn’t have friends before._

Lance grew rigid at that thought. That’s right. Did he seriously think he could leave Hunk? Or Pidge? Or Keith? After all they’ve done for him? Stopping short in the middle of the hall, Lance gripped the small tuffs of his hair and bit back a scream. Damn was he pathetic. He couldn’t even face his old roommate, the minuscule of reminders as to what happened at that hellhole. They had hardly even talked while he was there, let alone about what he was doing. They kept their distance, for the most part. 

— _oh, Lance_ —

_Stop. Don’t bring that back._

Lance shook his head. Right, right, no looking back. The past was in the past. And despite that fact that a literal piece of his past was coming to his school, he was going to make sure that that piece didn’t interfere with the current picture of his present.  
He was going to face them head on, and it would solve the crippling anxiety eating away at his insides.

Hopefully.

 

“Lance, you’re shaking,” Keith whispered as they stretched. “Is it because you’re nervous or is it because of all the coffee you drank?”

Because life was cruel, and the existence of time also rarely did favors, class had arrived, and any minute now, his worst nightmare would walk through the door to his studio. “Both,” Lance answered as he stretched out his quad, teeth jittering. The lack of sleep last night/five cups of caffeine was not adding up well. Lance didn’t even want to think about how he must look like right now. Oh, God, and his old roommate was going to see him like this? Oh, he was so screwed. 

“Hey.” Keith got up from the floor and stood with him at the bench, close enough to let their shoulders touch. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”

A small wave of relief crashed over Lance. He didn’t deserve Keith; but at the moment, he was his only beacon of light, his rock, and he’d be damned if he let him go now.

Just then, Pidge came jostling back into the room, toddling hurryingly back to Lance’s side. “What did you say he looked like again?” they asked.  
Lance glanced at the door, half-expecting him to walk through it. “Well, last time I saw him, he had short hair. Tall. Uh…”

“Because I’ve been scouting and I don’t see anyone. You sure he’s not here yet?”

Lance snorted. “Oh, trust me, I would know.”

“Alright, everyone, we ready to dance?” Coran asked as he waltz into the room, and Lance froze at the sight of him. Jesus, was he wearing a _leotard_? Did he know how old he was?

Oh God. And the _tights_.

“You know, I’m gonna be honest,” Keith muttered as Pidge—and the rest of the class--averted their eyes, “he doesn’t look that bad.”

Lance just shook his head at Keith, reaching out to turn his face away from Coran. “Just… look away, before you go blind.”

“Everyone to the center!” Coran chimed in a tone so chipper and hopeful and happy that it made Lance’s head hurt. He talked as if he was just elated to be alive, and like good for him and all, but maybe try not rub it in everyone’s face, huh, bud? 

Sliding on a sweatband over his forehead, Coran put his hands on his hips, mustache quivering in dare he say excitement. “I just heard word that our newest student will be a tad late, so let’s start with a couple of exercises to warm us up. Everyone, form a line. We’re doing Fouetté turns, then transition to split leaps. Three of them.”

Before Keith could hide it, Lance caught a glimpse of his shoulders stiffen, and it made Lance’s heart twist in sympathy. Those combinations of moves were a little advanced for Keith, and despite how talented he was, and the amount of effort and practice he’d been through to get him to the point he was now, it still wasn’t enough to declare him great. Good, but not great. Not extraordinary, like Lance. He wasn’t trying to sound rude, but it was the truth. Say if Keith had grown up with ballet, started it young, Lance might have gone as far to say he would be better than him by now. But he didn’t, and he wasn’t, so moves like this were harder for him.

Still, practice made perfect, right?

Pidge went first, spinning on the tip of their toe while simultaneously kicking out their leg, then bringing back their foot to place against the inside of their high, creating a triangle. They ended in fifth position, pausing only a beat before doing a split turn, which required them a running start across the floor. Pidge did so, their feet so light that they practically flew, then jumped into the air to from a split, repeating this pattern two more times before landing back in fifth position.

_Not bad._

Coran motioned for Keith to go next. Keith swallowed, but Lance knew he never backed away from a challenge. He did just as Pidge did, but his turns were a little jerkier, his split leaps lacking proper height and pomp.

For a while now, Lance wondered how far Keith was going to take ballet. The only reason Lance invested so much time with him was because he’d never seen someone so determined to actually do ballet, and do it right, at least not this late in the game. Lance’s first impression of him was just a regular jock kid that thought ballet was easy, and that he could walk right in and do it off-hand. But then the months went by, and as each day passed, he saw Keith improve faster and faster, until eventually Lance couldn’t ignore the kind of talent he possessed. That day he saw him pull off that routine at that party, it was the day he realized that Keith was born to do ballet. Unfortunately, he didn’t know this until it was almost too late. So, Lance knew he needed to help, and he would for as long as he could. He hoped Keith followed up with a career in dance—all that talent would be a waste to throw away now. 

Keith finished strong, and Lance beamed—last time he transitioned to fifth, he practically tripped over his own two feet.

“Next,” Coran said. 

Lance’s turn. He winked at Keith as he passed, gaining a smirk/eye roll combo. He chuckled, then shook himself before going. Ah, the Fouetté. It was a spin that required more power than most, and despite how tired he was, with ballet, he always managed to give it everything he had, everything the move deserved. See, at times where he needed extra motivation, Lance thought of ballet as a friend, not something he did or performed, but an ethereal being that deserved to be displayed in the most beautiful way possible. Letting himself down was easy, but ballet? Not a chance. So Lance did his turns, adding an extra flair by kicking out his leg before transitioning into the split leaps. Which, frankly, were one of his favorite moves. Because when he did those, for the briefest of moments, he was _flying_. And when he was in the air… it was like being set free. Free from his worries, from his anxieties, from gravity itself. In the air, doing a split jump, nothing could touch him. 

He did five of them instead of three, needing to stay in the air longer than just what was told. When he landed back into fifth position, he could practically feel the disapproval radiate off Coran, letting it fuel him.

Then he heard the clapping, and Lance’s heart nearly stopped.

With his body now feeling as if it was a block of ice, he turned slowly to the door, only to spot his old roommate from two years ago.

Lotor.

People say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, and in most cases, that was true, but definitely not with Lotor’s.

The last time he saw Lotor, he was sixteen, after he left Arlag and was struggling with that damn court battle. Lotor had been a year older than him, and back then, that age difference hadn’t stood out as much as it did now. He was taller and slimmer, but by no means did he lack definition. It was like he’d been carved from the palest of stones. His once short platinum blond hair now flowed all the way down to the base of his back. And his eyes… Lance had forgotten how relenting his gaze could be. His eyes were the first and only warning that the man who owned them was trouble, golden iris’s and all. That, and his smile. It was naturally set between a snarl and taunting smirk, a “smile” that drew you away, yet pulled you in at the same time.

The first time Lance met Lotor, he looked bored and withdrawn from everyone around him, already aware of what the company did and had already decided that he had no choice but to go along with it. Now, he looked twice as hardened—there was no doubt that years of ballet had changed him, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out in what way. But… there was also something different about him, maybe the way he carried himself, like the weights or guilt or shame or whatever, had dropped away, little by little. Because, right now, he was smiling. Something Lance only saw him do once, and that was the day he testified, gaining revenge on one of the many that abused them.

Still, he couldn’t read him, nor his intentions as to why he was here, and that scared Lance shitless.

“Very nice,” Lotor said, his voice as smooth as silk. It was deeper—how could he have possibly aged in only a year? “Never thought I’d live to see the day Lance McClain could do a quintuple split leap.”

Lance bit his lip, knowing if he spoke, all that would come out were stammers.

“Ah, there you are!” Coran greeted, gliding to his side. “Everyone, meet Lotor!”

Lotor flashed everyone a smile as he pulled his long wispy hair into a pony tail, his plain white shirt pressing taut against his abs as he stretched his arms over his head. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Now, should we get started?” Coran said, specifically to Lotor.

Lotor gave him a gentle nod, which was… strange. When did he get all so self-composed? What happened to the punk who rolled his eyes and did what he wanted? Maybe he really had changed. And it made Lance realize that he wasn’t the same kid he was a year ago, either. Maybe Lotor was here to start over, too. Maybe things were going to be okay.

Class flew by. Since Lance was in the back for this show, he got the routine down easy, and actually had time to work with Keith on some things. When class ended, Keith and Pidge stuck to his side longer than usual, protective, and while Lance should have been annoyed by their hovering, he was honestly just grateful. Especially when Lotor ambled over with that bemused smirk on his face. 

“Lance,” he said breezily, cheerfully, even, for some strange reason. He nodded at Pidge, then Keith, his gaze lingering on him for a half-second longer than Lance would have liked before turning his attention back to him. “May I have a word?” 

He could see Keith’s shoulders tense, and before he could do something impulsive, like body block him, Lance rested a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Really. I need to talk to him, too.”

Glancing back at him, Keith frowned, but with a reassuring nod, he softened, but only a little. “We’ll be right outside,” he told him, and soon he and Pidge were out the door, shooting warning glares to Lotor on the way there.

Lotor’s smile remained on his face as they left, but his eyes slit slightly as he glanced back at his friends. “So, you’ve told them about me? And here I thought my arrival would be a surprise.” He scanned Lance a moment, drinking in his unruly appearance, he was sure. “You’ve looked… better,” Lotor declared, and Lance couldn’t tell if was trying to be a tool or if he was just being honest. Probably both. 

Lance squinted at him. “It’s been a rough couple of days.” Feeling the caffeine wear off, he rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. “Look, Lotor, I’ll cut to the chase: why are you here? Why Altea? Why a ballet school? You were in a company—you were older than me. I figured you would have found a different company to go after what happened.”

Lotor stepped closer, and Lance held his breath. Up close, Lance could see how much taller he was than him, how long his lashes were framed over his golden eyes, how sharp his jawline was, and realized just how damn hot he was. Was he always this good looking? 

“Well…” Lotor sighed, and the snarky, well-put together façade began to fade, his voice growing softer, weaker. “After our little court battle in New York, I couldn’t possibly go back to Arlag—that much was obvious. But finding another company had been impossible—auditions were far more brutal than they were for Arlag. In fact, it actually became evident that they accepted us younglings only to do with us that they willed, because we were vulnerable, and didn’t know that things weren’t supposed to be that way.”

Lance felt sick just thinking about that—that they were prey from the start. “But you were better than I was back then.”

“True, but not as much as you would think. Not by their standards.” With a soft sigh, Lotor stretched back and pulled his hairband down his ponytail, letting his hair fall like a curtain over his left shoulder. “So, as you did, I enrolled back in an academy to further my skills, and while it was a bit of a soul-crusher to return to a place in life I thought I had surpassed, it did give me some insight into why you did it.”

“What made you decide to transfer here if you were already in an academy elsewhere?”

It was then that Lotor’s sneering smile returned. “It was after I saw the video going around of you and that… _boy_ kissing on stage. It was then that knew I just _had_ to attend a school who’s daring enough to allow such an act.”

Wait. Did he say _video_? Suddenly, all the condensation in Lance’s mouth left, and his tongue felt like it’d been turned into sandpaper, scrapping against his teeth as he spoke. “And here I thought that the audience were mindful enough to leave their phones off.”

The corners of Lotor’s lips curled. “You know, it surprised me to see you so openly, uh, _affectionate_ with someone.” He tilted his head curiously. “Does he know?”

There was no need to elaborate, so Lance hurried and nodded. “And by the way, there was no way in hell Allura allowed that to happen—Keith did that on his own, so you probably picked the wrong school.”

“I’ve been eyeing Allura’s choreograph for a while now—the only reason I’m here now is because I had to finish up the last year in my previous academy.” He leaned in some, voice lowering as he slowly turned his gaze back to Keith—who was hovering near the doorway, looking like he was going to bust in and attack any second now. “Who else knows? Beside your guard dog over there, I mean.”

Lance shifted uncomfortably. “Just my friends. No one else, though.”

Lotor’s face remained blank, but there was something in his gaze that made Lance question why he wanted to know that information in the first place. Lance could have said, _and it better stay that way_ , but he was far too concerned with keeping Lotor’s antics at bay. Instead, he took a gentler approach. “You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”

For the longest moment in the history of moments, Lotor was silent. And in this impossibly prolonged moment of silence, Lotor did one thing: he brought his hand up to rest on the side of Lance’s face, trailing his fingers down his cheek until he held his chin with his thumb and forefinger, turning his jaw to the side to expose his neck. He then stared, letting his eyes fall over his bobbing Adam's apple and down the rest of his body, and suddenly, Lance was hit, no, more like _slammed_ with déjà vu. A memory trickled back, and Lance couldn’t stop it from overtaking his senses. 

It had been a week before Allura came to visit him at Arlag, followed by Lance spilling all of what had happened to him that year. But in that year Lance was at the disgrace of a company, he and Lotor barely talked. Like, at all. The only time Lance could remember ever having a conversation that consisted of two or more syllables was the night he confessed to him able sleeping with his teacher, gaining a dismissive and heart-shattering response that made it quite clear they were on very different levels. They weren’t “in this together.” They weren’t even under this silent code of comradery. At least, Lance hadn’t thought so. For the longest time, he thought Lotor enjoyed the system at play at Arlag, due to his attitude. He was pompous and rude and hated everyone, and the teachers lapped up his confidence, just like they did with Lance’s ignorance. Lotor had made it seem as though he was preened for this sort of life, like he was the one in control and the teachers were lucky enough to have him, but it wasn’t until he came to testify that Lance’s opinion changed of him entirely. 

But the memory now engulfing Lance’s senses was set on the night that pushed Lotor to testify in the first place.

It had been 12:00am, and the gala Arlag was hosting had been long over, but the persuasive of the patron’s part of the evening had just begun. At two, most of the dancers had left to go back to their dorms, but Lance… Lance wasn’t back until six.

He knew that the patrons had taken a liking to him—it wasn’t a secret that he was pretty. He made sure he was—if you look good, you feel good. Your appearance is the first thing people see about you, and in ballet, your appearance is all that matters, which is one of the first reasons he took such a liking to ballet. Growing up, Lance adored being labeled pretty—it gave him confidence. 

He didn’t know his appearance would one day be turned against him.

So, that specific night, he’d managed to get generous donations from plenty of patrons, all of whom had supplied alcohol, which as the night went on, he accepted more and more of. Finally, when the last patron was… satisfied with their negotiation, Lance was so trashed he didn’t even know how he found his dorm room. Once he finally got there, he pounded on the door, because frankly, he forgot how to open it.

A second later, Lotor yanked the door out from under his hand, and Lance barely missed his shoulder. “God, Lance, what the—” Lotor froze, and the reek of alcohol had hit him like a brick. “Jesus, how much did you…”

“Lotor!” Lance had slurred, stumbling inside, straight past Lotor to try and sit on his bed to take off his shoes. Then he realized he wasn’t wearing shoes, and he got confused and started searching the room for them, but then the room began to spin and that made him laugh because why would the room start to spin? How silly of it!

He felt Lotor’s hand grip his shoulders, steadying him. “Lance, what the fuck? It’s 6:00am! If you’re going out drinking make sure you have a fucking place to stay.”

Out drinking? No, well, yes, but, no… but yes… Lance stifled a chuckle. “I wasn’t. No, no, I wasn’t… No…” The word sounded thick on his tongue, so he said it a couple of more times just because it sounded funny.

Lotor paused then. “Then where the hell were you?”

Oh! Finally a question that he could answer. “Patrons.”

Another pause. “Patrons? Like...” Lotor’s eyes widened. “But it’s…6:00am… where you with one this whole time?”

“One?!” Lance asked, exasperated. “I find that”—he hiccupped—“that insulting! I got like… like six donations!” He held up all ten fingers, then used five of those fingers to stab Lotor’s chest. “You, mister, are looking at the star of our next sh—” He hiccupped again, making himself giggle. He rolled his head to the side, searching for his bed, but Lotor’s sudden gasp distracted him, making him ask, “What?”

The room had been dark, but soon, it was filled with the soft orange light from the lamp Lotor flipped on. When he turned back to Lance, he froze, paralyzed by the aftermath of the night’s “persuasions.”

The horror on Lotor’s face had sobered Lance up some, and he looked in the mirror hanging above their dresser to see just what had spooked him so bad. Lance’s attire for the gala that night was a freshly pressed tuxedo. Where that tuxedo was now, he had no idea. Now, he was in his boxer-briefs, his undershirt unbuttoned and draping half off of him, revealing his bare chest, as well as the erratic and overlapping markings decorating his flesh from those he was with tonight. 

“Lance,” Lotor breathed in disbelief. He stepped closer, taking Lance’s chin to guide his face to the side, eyes examining every bare inch of flesh. “ _Oh, Lance_.”

“I needed the part,” he said simply, refusing to let the tears he’d been holding back for months prick his eyes. 

Lotor had been silent only a moment longer. His hand covered his mouth, eyes still on the train wreck that his body was, until finally he turned away and went back to bed.

Two weeks later, after the whole Allura scene, Lotor approached him, asking if he needed help taking down Arlag.

Now, back in the safety of Altea, Lance’s skin was perfectly clear; he made sure of it, and as Lotor noticed this, he pulled his hand away, still not having answered Lance. So, he repeated himself, “And you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

Lotor tapped his chin, face expressionless. “Well, it’s not like anyone would believe me if I did.”

… Was that supposed to _comfort_ Lance?

“Oh, relax,” Lotor continued. “You really think I’d stoop so low?”

Lance shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t know. I don’t really know you at all.”

And with that, Lotor smiled, as though he knew something Lance didn’t. “Well, I can state with complete confidence that those words won’t hold truth for much longer.” He winked, waving a hand behind his head as he went. “See you around, McClain.”

Lance heart hammered in his chest, swallowing hard as he watched him go. What the hell was that? Okay, well, Lotor said he wasn’t going to say anything, so Lance had nothing left to worry about, right?

Then why did he feel like something was wrong, and it was only going to get worse?

 

Keith hated Lotor the second he saw him.

He didn’t know why, but he just… did. And until he gave him a reason not to, Keith would continue to do so. 

“He’s standing too close,” Keith said as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and face scrunched in a solid frown.

Pidge craned their neck further into the room, squinting. “How can you tell? I can’t even see Lance—guy’s a giant.”  
“Well, maybe to _you_ —”

Pidge glared.

Keith rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, yes, he’s tall, but he’s—” Keith gasped. Was Lotor… touching Lance? He leaned forward, face reddening as he witnessed Lotor’s grimy hand on the side of Lance’s face. Oh, _hell_ no—

Almost as quickly as he did so, Lotor pulled away, murmuring some more and leaving Lance looking clueless in his wake. What. Was _that_?

As Lotor passed, Keith gave him the most menacing glare he could conjure, his sneer deepening as Lotor met his gaze with a bemused shit-eating smirk, making Keith’s unwarranted hatred for him completely justifiable. At least from his perspective. 

“Hey, you okay?” Keith asked as soon as Lance approached. He looked flushed, and Keith couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealously. Out of all the times they were together, he never recalled making him react like that. Not even after they kissed.

But the pink in Lance’s cheeks faded quickly, and like magic, he was back to his carefree, unencumbered self. “Psh, I’m great.”

Pidge eyed him warily. “What was that with Lotor, then?”

Lance waved a dismissive hand. “Just clearing some things up. And trust me, he’s not going to be a problem.”

Oh, please. Keith would have bet his whole life’s saving against that statement, but he kept that quip to himself. Instead, he gave Lance what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but he doubted it came across as well as he hoped. 

“Okay, so things are good with you?” Pidge confirmed, to which Lance nodded with his usual dopey smile.

“Yup, no need to—Oof!”

Keith cringed at the sight before him: Pidge’s fist embedded in Lance’s stomach, having reeled it back to punch him just a moment prior. When Pidge brought back their hand, Lance fell backward, clutching his stomach. Pidge loomed over him. “That’s for gluing my fingers together,” they said as they nodded to the remaining bits of dried glue on the middle of their fingers. This morning, when they’d all woken up in Hunk’s designer room, Pidge’s response to seeing their fingers superglued together was mollified compared to what would have been said if they hadn’t seen how distressed Lance was over Lotor. But now… 

With a victorious grin splayed across their face, Pidge stalked off, telling them both they’d meet them in the dining hall for dinner.  
Biting his lip, Keith crouched down to where Lance lay, clutching his stomach. “Um, dinner in five?”

Voice strained, and face pinched, Lance—miraculously—managed a nod. “Sure.”

 

After dinner, Hunk, Pidge, Lance, and Keith parted ways… Well, sort of.

“Hey, Lance,” Keith called after him as he headed down the hall. “What are you, um”—he cleared his throat—“what are you doing now?”

Lance shrugged. “Probably going to head home. Why?”

Keith took a second to scrimmage through his dance bag, only to pull out a DVD he’d been storing. “I was thinking we could watch this tonight. You know, to study up on the ballet we’re doing.”

Lance took the DVD, raising his eyebrows curiously. “Where did you get this?”

Keith tried to play it casual, but knowing him, he failed miserably, coming off as sheepish. “I”—he scratched the back of his head, eyeing everything besides Lance—“ _might_ have swiped it from Allura’s office.”

Lance feigned a shocked gasp. “Did you steal this?” 

“I’m going to give it back,” Keith reassured. “I just thought that we could, you know, watch it together.” Keith swallowed, then hurried to add, “for educational purposes.”

Lance stared at him a moment, and all of a sudden Keith regretted every asking him in the first place. “O—or not! I mean, you’ve probably already seen it. In fact, I know you’ve already seen it, so n—never mind! Stupid idea. Just forget—”

Chuckling, Lance used the DVD it point down the hall with. “Alright, bad boy, I should have known you’d have no idea where the story for our ballet came from. Come on, it’s time to educate you in the mind of Shakespeare’s, A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’”

The DVD Keith had swiped from Allura’s office was a recording of a ballet performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream that past students had done, the story that their own ballet for show season was based on. Keith had never heard of it before, nor did he really care about learning the original story, but he did care about spending more time with Lance, especially after seeing him with Lotor. That, and it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to see how past performers went about the show dance wise. He hated admitting it, but he was struggling a bit, and what better way to find inspiration in his role than by watching how others did it? 

“There’s so many characters!” Keith complained, barely into the first thirty minutes of the ballet. “Which one is Lotor playing?”

“Oberon,” Lance confirmed, taking a swig of the soda he’d gotten from Keith’s mini-fridge. He bumped shoulders with Keith as he recapped the bottle, setting it back down beside him on the floor where they sat in front of Keith’s laptop.

Oberon, huh? “Isn’t he the fairy king?”

“Yup.”

“So he’s our king?” Keith asked, paying mind that they would be one of the many fairies in the show.

“Correctomundo!” Lance announced with the roll of his tongue.

Keith grimaced at that, but he had other matters he needed to worry about pertaining to the show. “Oh! Right there! That’s the other move I told you I was worried about.” 

Lance leaned into the screen, replaying it a bit to the point where Keith gestured to. “The arabesque?”

Keith nodded, a little embarrassed by the surprise in Lance’s voice, as if he had expected him to already know it. But Lance recovered quickly. “Well, here, get up, we can practice now.”

Keith obeyed, thankful that Lance was willing to help. 

“Okay, so show me how you usually do it,” Lance said, and Keith did. He stood to the side, legs straight. Now the arabesque wasn’t just one move, but a series of them. After creating a hoop with his arms, he broke it by lifting one arm up to the ceiling and pointing the other one down toward the ground.Now came the tricky part. The last move required him to bring one of his legs completely backward, putting no weight on it, then lifting it up behind him, bringing his torso forward, something Keith just couldn’t do. So he ended up bringing his leg up half the height it was supposed to.

“Ah, okay, I see,” Lance said. He tapped his chin, then an impish smile crossed his face. “Um, alrighty, let’s see here…” Slowly, Lance came up behind him, placing his hands on either side of Keith’s torso. “Now, start over.”

Keith did. Repeating the same series of steps until he was at the part where he had to bring his leg back. “Okay, don’t move,” Lance said, breath brushing the back of his ear. Keith nodded, then gasped as he felt Lance’s hand grasp his inner thigh. “Sh, I got you,” Lance whispered as he slowly began to lift it backward, all while simultaneously bending Keith’s body forward little by little. Keith held his breath; it’s not like he wasn’t used to Lance touching him during practice—but in all of the practices before, the hands on his body were placed there for strictly professional gain; Keith wasn’t so sure that was the case now. 

Keith knew that Lance didn’t respond well to being touched too inappropriately, but _apparently_ he had no problem touching him in that way.

“There,” Lance said, pleased with himself as he stopped at the height Keith’s leg should be. “You can do it; you were just scared of leaning your body forward." 

Keith’s heart pounded in his chest. “Oh?” he managed to squeak, because right then, every sense was being pinpointed to the exact spot where Lance grasped his leg. 

Lance chuckled, removing his hand to sidestep in front of Keith, eyes gleaming in satisfaction. Then suddenly, he stepped even closer, pressing his lips lightly against Keith’s.

Keith could have died right there and then. He didn’t know what was wrong with him as he tried to move his mouth against Lance’s, but he couldn’t, not in the way he did at their showcase of the Phantom of the Opera. Now, he was clumsy, tentative, but… as they continued, Keith realized Lance didn’t pull away as quickly as he did the night Keith hungrily ate at him. In fact, Keith would even go as far and say he enjoyed it. 

Eventually, he did pull away, seeming he’d already pushed his limits for tonight, but he remained near, arms wrapped around Keith’s waist. “W—what was that for?” Keith asked once he found his voice.

Lance smiled shyly, shrugging. “Just wanted to say thanks.”

“Thanks?” Keith echoed, honestly stunned. “For what? I haven’t done anything.”

Lance leaned forward to nuzzle noses with him. “You’ve done more than you know.”

Keith’s head suddenly felt muzzy. Just a little while ago, he was convinced that Lance would never feel the same way, that being with him in this manner was a just a dream. Now, it felt like they’d never not been like this. _Together_. 

“Hey, Lance,” Keith said softly. “Can I ask you something that’s maybe a little selfish?”

Hesitant, Lance nodded.

“When did you… um, how long have you… felt this way about me? I mean, this didn’t just come out of the blue, right? That’s what you said?” 

For the first time ever, Keith finally saw Lance blush, a beautiful pink tint that coated his caramelized cheeks. “Well… no, if I’m being honest, I’ve felt this way for a while. But… knowing what I did, knowing what I’ve _done_ , I just… I didn’t want to get close enough to where I would have to tell you anything. I don’t know much about relationships, but I know they should start off with honesty. But I couldn’t give that to you, not yet. I thought that if we stayed friends, I could keep it to myself…. Then you kissed me…” Lance shook his head, and the smile already on his face only grew. “And… I dunno, a little part of me was scared that you still didn’t feel that way about me, so I played it off by asking if it was just for show.” Lance’s arms wrapped tighter around Keith. “Gonna be honest. I’m glad you said it wasn’t.”

Keith’s heart felt like it had expanded twice its average size, ready to burst, but not quite there yet. He leaned in closer, planting one light kiss to Lance’s lips. “Same here.”

Lance’s smile brightened the room, and in return he kissed the tip of his nose. “Alright, my turn to ask a question.”

Keith blinked at him. “And that would be?”

Lance brought his hand up and pocked him in the chest. “You said that you knew me from my show when I was twelve, right? The Nutcracker and the Mouse King?” 

“Um, yeah?”

“So, basically, you’ve been pining for me for five years?”

Keith opened his mouth to object, but all that came out was jumbled mesh of cut-off sentences. “Um, well… it’s not like… it was—uh—”

“No, no, I’m not like, making fun of you, it kind of just hit me. After seeing me in a show when we were twelve, only to somehow manage to find your way to the same school as me… that’s like, the cheesiest love story I think I’ve ever heard.” This brought out a chuckle in him, but it died not long after, a sad little smile taking its place. “Thinking back, if I had met you after the show, I’m totally convinced I would have persuaded you to do ballet with me.”

Keith’s breath felt like it’d been sucked out of his lungs. Oh, if only. God, imagining the life he could have had if he’d just… asked to meet Lance after his show. Would Lance had convinced him to join ballet? What if instead of simply tutoring Lance, Allura decided to tutor Keith, as well? What if they’d grown up together, danced together, competed together. What if they’d gotten into the same dance academy in New York? What if they’d both been accepted into Arlag? Would Keith had protected Lance? Yes, that he was sure of. He would have saved Lance from Arlag, and they both would be safe and happy. They’d both be great dancers—equals, and Keith wouldn’t have had to suffer through years of feeling inadequate. Oh, if only—

Just then, light laughter bubbled up from Lance, and he stepped back to cover his mouth his hands. 

“What?” Keith asked, smiling at his sudden change of demeanor. 

Lance continued to laugh, shaking his head. “I’m just imagining how… how _cute_ you would have looked in a little leotard.” His laughter dissolved into a full-on giggle fest, and Keith rolled his eyes, but a grin soon followed. That’s what he was laughing about? Dear lord. 

“Ha-ha, hilarious. I’m pressing play on the DVD now.”

Continuing to laugh, Lance joined him back on the floor, continuing to point out how adorable Keith’s twelve-year-old self would have looked in leotards and tutus and ballet shoes. When he finally dropped it (which wasn’t for a long, long time) they somehow found themselves in this peaceful state that felt disjointed from reality, a place where nothing could touch them. And in this state, they just… sat, watched the ballet, and when it was done, they continued to sit and chatter, their voices growing quieter and quieter as time passed until they weren’t talking at all, but enjoying each other’s company in the most innocent way Keith could think of. Keith had never reached this state of bliss with anyone before, and with Lance, he was likely to experience more and more of them. 

And Keith couldn’t wait.

 

Before Keith knew it, the eve before opening night had arrived, and for once, and he couldn’t wait.

When he was starring in shows with Lance, he remembered being a ball of anxiousness the whole week before the actual show. Now, knowing he’d be in the back surrounded by everyone else, _including_ Lance, he couldn’t have felt more confident. 

Still, that didn’t mean he could slack off.

That night after practice, Keith headed back to the dance studio to try and perfect his routine. For the most part, he had the routine down, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep well the night before a show. Nerves. So, for an hour or so, Keith did a little bit of stretching, a little bit of dancing, then eventually transitioned into the routine. He didn’t give it his all—he’d save that for the show—but he wanted to make sure he knew every step backward and forward. He didn’t know anyone was watching until he heard these string of words come from behind him: “So that’s what all that noise was.”

Keith turned, already annoyed with being interrupted, only to grow enraged when he saw it was Lotor.

“Your turns are a half-step behind the music,” Lotor went on to say, the snobbish smile already on his face widening as he kept pointing out his flaws. “And you need to bend your knees more. Oh, and your pirouette? Could be done a little cleaner.”

Keith’s fists clenched at his sides. The worst part about Lotor’s little comments? They were probably true.

No, scratch that, they were true—he just didn’t want to believe it.

“Okay, thanks,” Keith heard himself say. Yeah, “thanks.” He said _thanks_. To the tool that touched Lance. Ah, whatever, it was good advice, as much as he hated admitting it. Besides, arguing with him wouldn’t get him to leave any faster. 

But Lotor continued to stand there. Even had the gall to step further into Keith’s dance space. “Your name is Keith, correct?” he asked, voice smooth and feather-like.

Eyeing him, Keith nodded. 

“I hear from your classmates that you only started ballet say, what, two, three months ago?”

Keith tapped his foot. Where was he going with this? And why was he here? Okay, Keith, chill, he could just be trying to make small talk. In reality, Lotor hadn’t given him a solid reason to dislike him as much as he did. Not yet anyhow. He could at least humor him. “Around four.”

“Four? And you’re already in the advanced class? My, that’s impressive.”

Was he being sarcastic? It was hard to tell. “I’ve had a lot of help.”

“From Lance,” Lotor prompted, stepping closer. Geez, did this guy not know the meaning of personal space? From this close, Keith could see his golden irises, and wonder how the hell were they gold? “And how long have you two been, ah, together?”

Instinctively, Keith started putting his walls up. Just what was Lotor trying at get here? “Um, not long…. Why?”

Lotor shrugged meekly. “Oh I’m just surprised that Lance choose to be with someone so… well, inferior to his own abilities.”

 _Inferior_. That word caused a pang of envy to echo throughout Keith, and it took him a second to reorient himself. “W—what does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, no offense to you,” Lotor rushed to say, shaking his hands in front of him. “It’s just that Lance, he’s been through enough—to think he’d be with someone who he knows it’s not going to work out with… Well, that’s downright masochistic.”

Alright, Keith was done being nice. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Lotor chuckled. “Keith, Lance is special. He could go to any company he wishes. While you… cannot.” He said it so simply, like it was the most common fact in the world. “While you have talent, you’ll never be good enough to make it into the same schools as Lance. What happens when you both graduate? What happens when Lance finally finds a company he feels safe at? You really think you’ll be able to follow him?”

Keith hadn’t expected Lotor to go down this route, and each sentence spewed felt like a jab right to his stomach. “I—I don’t know.”

Lotor smiled, taking pleasure from Keith’s inferiority. “Well, I do. You will never be good enough to get in any company, let alone the one Lance chooses. We both know it. You started too late, and there is no shame in that. It’s just the truth. So, let’s say you both graduate from this school, still going strong. Lance gets into a company, and you… what? Will you go with him, wherever this company may be? Will you follow him across cities or states or even countries to be with him? All while he’ll be dedicating the rest of his life to ballet, while you’ll be in the background, waiting?”

Keith didn’t even know how to answer that. At first, this scenario all seemed ridiculous, but as Lotor went on, the more and more… realistic it became. He was right. Lance was better at Keith at ballet, so much so that he’s bound to be accepted into a company, despite his fear of them. Then what? What happens to them?

“I’m just saying,” Lotor went on, “maybe it’d be better to quit now while you can. Not with ballet, but with Lance. Because, whether you like it or not, you will never have both. Not forever, anyway.” 

Keith squirmed, hating how… _right_ he sounded. This thing between him and Lance… it was new! Words like “forever” shouldn’t even breach the vicinity of their relationship. Not yet, anyhow. Why was Lotor even discussing their relationship? Why was he—oh. Oh. It was so _obvious_. 

“You want Lance,” Keith realized. "That's why you're here."

Lotor didn’t even flinch. If anything, he seemed to be empowered by this revelation. “See, Keith, when I was Lance’s roommate, I watched this beautiful, kind, innocent boy break piece by piece at Arlag after realizing their antics, and I did nothing about it; I’d been too self-absorbed in myself and my career to let myself care of anyone, especially Lance. After he left New York, I realized just how much I missed him—the old him, the boy that would have done anything to be good at ballet. I missed the spark in his eyes, and I didn’t realize how much I missed it—missed him—until he was gone. And when I found him again, I knew I’d been given a second chance to be with him, under better circumstances, of course.” 

“And you didn’t even consider that fact that he’s happy with me?” Keith countered, weakly, because everything felt like it was slipping through his fingers, and his pitiful grasp to hold on to it all was loosening by the second as this arrogant scumbag continued to proclaim he could swoop in and take what Keith had, like Lance was simply some… some object!

“I did, but I didn’t dwell on it.” Lotor stepped back, hands behind his back, his smile devilish. “I’ll let you have your fun, Keith, because sooner or later, you’ll realize that you’re not meant to be with Lance. He deserves someone who knows his pain—someone he can compete with, and that, my friend, is not you.”

He left without another word, and Keith was grateful for that. Because one more word from Lotor’s mouth would have been the finishing blow.

God, how did he do that? With just a few words, Lotor managed to break down all of the confidence Keith had managed to build up over these months. 

_Stop_ , Keith thought. _You can’t let him do this to you. You can’t let him win._

But all Keith had was ballet, and to be told he wasn’t good enough by someone who obviously was? It hurt. Sure, he may be good enough to get into the advanced class, but what of his future? What if he never made into a company? Did he even want to? Did he want to spend the rest of his life doing ballet? Yes, he loved it, but did he love it enough? He’d only gotten to this point to prove Lance wrong, and now he and Lance were… involved, and while Keith loved ballet, he loved Lance more.

That’s when Keith realized, with crushing devastation, that ballet was the glue between them, and if that suddenly disappeared, would their relationship do the same? 

_No. No, it can’t. Not after all we’ve been through._

Still, Keith wasn’t about to find out. He headed to the bar—he had work to do. 

 

Opening night had arrived, and Hunk had never seen Keith look so ill.

Granted, he hadn’t known him for long, but no matter what, the shade of green Keith’s face had gotten should never be reached by any means. Wasn’t his color.

“You okay, buddy?” Hunk whispered to him as he pinned the last leaf on his leotard, silently marveling out how his costume turned out. But, he wasn’t going to lie, it took a lot of work to get it on him in the first place. The whole time he was trying to touch up certain spots, his eyes would waver to Lotor (who still needed his costume) as he talked to Lance, eventually turning his neck to get a better look, then having his body follow, making Hunk’s life all that much harder.  
Keith shifted from foot to foot, fists clenching at his sides, his gaze never leaving Lotor. Or Lance. Or both, probably. “Dude,” Hunk said.

Keith clenched his jaw. “If he touches Lance again, I’m going to bite his head off.” 

Hunk almost hadn’t heard him, given the growl layering over his words. “Well, if you’re going to do it, do it now. I don’t want blood all over his costume.”

Hunk hoped Keith would find that funny, but after the glare he received, he doubted it came across that way. Sighing, he asked, “Keith, what’s with you?”

Keith nodded to Lotor. “He’s here to win Lance, Hunk. That’s why he transferred to this school.”

Hunk eyed Lotor. Keith caught all of this through a glance? “Uh, how can you tell?”

“Because he told me,” Keith said. “Er, well he didn’t exactly say so, but he admitted it. Right to my face. Said all this crap about how I don’t deserve to be with Lance, and how we’ll never work out, and…” Keith deflated, his anger dissipating into a cloud of self-pity. “Just… a bunch of other stuff.” 

Whoa, back up a step, this guy said what to Keith? Hunk shot another glance over to Lotor, whose smile was so obviously flirtatious now that he knew better, and so evident as he pointed it to Lance. Biting his lip, Hunk pulled Keith aside, behind the costume rack. “He said this to you? When?”

Keith shrugged. “Last night.”

Hunk scoffed. He knew he was right to be worried about Lotor. “Okay, first off, I’m going to kick the living crap out of Lotor for saying that to you. Secondly, Keith, Lance chose you, remember? He’s not some object that Lotor can just come in and steal; Lance is capable of making his own decisions on who he wants to be with, and he wants to be with you.” 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Pidge asked, poking their head from around the costume rack. They still weren’t dressed either, not completely. Geez, Hunk had a lot to work to do. With costumes, and Keith.

“Nothing,” Keith said, so obviously lying. 

Pidge rolled their eyes, coming closer. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

Hunk decided to fill them in. “Lotor apparently confessed to Keith that he came here to win Lance over.”

Pidge’s eyebrows shot straight up. They took a look back at Lotor, then Lance, then back at Keith. Finally, they nodded in what seemed to be understanding. “See, I knew we had a reason to hate him.” Pidge pressed their palms flat against each other, holding them both near the tip of their nose. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. During the show, I’m going to trip Lotor, right? Then, Keith, you’re gonna come up and just push him off the stage. Right into the crowd.” 

Hunk nodded eagerly. “Right, and I can make sure his costume is loose. So when he falls off stage, his costume will rip off. So not only will he be hurt, but _incredibly_ embarrassed.”

Pidge’s evil plan had worked, because not a second later, Keith was chuckling, even though he looked like he was fighting himself every step of the way. “Ha, thanks, guys. But, no, I wouldn’t want to ruin the show.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine. Really, just… need to focus.”

Focus? Focus on what? Keeping Lance by his side? That couldn’t be it. No, Keith was battling something else, something deeper. But before Hunk could ask what, he headed out from behind the costumes, right over to Lance and Lotor. Lotor—thankfully—got the picture, nodded at Lance, and headed to his make-up chair across the room. 

“I’m worried about him,” Hunk admitted to Pidge. “I’m worried about _both_ of them.”

Pidge knew what Hunk meant; he could tell by the crushing look on their face, the one they’ve both personally tried to hide in Lance’s wake every single time he was near. 

“How did we not know, Hunk?” Pidge whispered, eyes turning glassy. “How did we just let him act like everything in the world was fine when it wasn’t?”

Hunk moved closer and rubbed Pidge’s arm. “I know, I know, but how could we have known?” And it was true. Lance was an expert actor; he was almost too good at hiding his emotions, and Hunk feared that would be his greatest downfall. Keeping everything inside… Not only does that not help, but it can be detrimental to your mental health, eventually causing you to snap. Just like Hunk almost did when he heard about what happened to Lance at Arlag. 

For the past twenty-four hours, Hunk had been replaying Lance’s confession in his head over and over. God, the rage that he felt for those… people. The rage that he still felt now… Well, he had a handle on it. For the most part. He had seen red when Lance told him; the urge to demolish everything in sight had never struck him so hard, and if Lane wasn’t there to calm him, who knew what he would have done?

Lance… he shouldn’t have had to go through that. Not alone. But now that everything was out in the open, what was there for Hunk to do besides be supportive? 

“We just have to stand by him,” Hunk reassured. “Try and make things as easy as possible.”

Pidge scratched their head, still uneasy. Hunk didn’t blame them. “Come on, go get dressed. We've got a long night ahead of us."

Once Hunk put the finishing touches on everyone’s costumes, he headed to the theater, wanting to see the show for how it would turn out, rather than witness the magic be broken by seeing what goes on behind the stage. He looked through his program, eyes skimming over the title of the show: The Fall of The Fairy’s Tale.

Hunk didn’t know much about the show, besides the fact that it was based on the original story of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The story starts with the fairy king, named Oberon, and the fairy queen Titania arguing over a changeling child who Titania found. Oberon wants to raise the boy as his henchman, but Titania wants to keep him and raise her as a follower with her fairies. So, furious with Titania for not agreeing with him, Oberon sends out his servant Puck, a tiny, mischievous male fairy, to fetch a magical flower that’s juices will make the person that they are inflicted on fall in love with the first person they see. Once Oberon squeezes the flower’s juice into Titania’s eyes while asleep, she falls in love with some beast of the forest called Bottom, leaving the boy unoccupied. 

All while this is happening, two pairs of couples enter Oberon’s forest, all of which are involved in this giant love square. Hermia and Lysander ran away from home because they weren’t allowed to be together, but this other dude, Demetrius, loves Hermia, while this other girl, Helena, loves Demetrius. Oberon witnesses this strange love square and decides to intervene, sending out Puck to give the love flower to Demetrius to fall in love with Helena, but Puck screws up and puts it on Lysander first, making him fall for Helena. Seeing his mistake, Puck then finds Demetrius and makes him fall in love with Helena as well. Oberon sees this mess and makes Puck reverse the spell on Lysander, but not Demetrius, so he can still be in love with Helena so she can be happy. Finally, Oberon reflects on his own love with Titania and feels bad for what he did, eventually reversing the spell on her. It ends happily, with everyone loving who they’re supposed to. 

"Yeah, Allura threw all that out,” Lance said to him after he’d asked. He then went on to explain Allura’s modernized version. Hunk had been surprised at just how… well, good the plot of it was, and was more than excited to see how it played out in person tonight.

Just then, the lights of the theater began to dim, and the audience hushed in renewed excitement at what was to come and settled into their seats. Silence swept over everyone, including Hunk, which made the sudden chirp of the violin made him jump. 

_And it’s show time._

The curtains parted, and there, the stage portrayed a deep, lush forest of the most realistic paper machete trees he’d ever seen. Thick ivies had been wrapped around and around the throne at the center of the stage, dotted with a hundred glowing blossoms and daisies and violets. The entire stage’s floor was coated with more ivy and vines and “roots” from the trees in the background, along with glowing mushrooms bordering the front of the stage. Twinkling yellow lights hung down from above, looking more like fireflies from a distance.

Suddenly, a group of dancers bounced onto stage, aka the fairies, dressed in darkened pastel colored leotards varying from pink, blue, red, and green. On each of their backs, small fairy wings fluttered back and forth, and among that group, was Lance and Keith. Hunk had dressed Keith in deep, almost burgundy colored leotard and small skirt, his sleeves composed of see-through scarlet fabric with black daisies sewn on that flowed as he moved, along with eggshell white tights. A sash of pine leaves hung across his torso, and a small crown of pine cones had been placed on his head.

Lance, on the other hand, Hunk had placed in a something a little softer: a long-sleeved darkened blue pastel colored leotard commingled with clads of cerulean. His skirt, a similar color to his leotard, swayed against his legs as he moved, like water. The sash around Lance’s torso was composed of a variation of dark pink, blue, and violet colored roses, while the crown on his head were made from purple and pink raspberries.

Among Lance and Keith, the fairies bounced and spun and jumped and pranced across every inch of the stage, all ending their routine in a cluster in the middle, heads turned toward the man that strutted from the far right of the stage. Oberon. 

As much as he disliked him, Hunk had done a damn good job on his costume. Deep juniper colored leotard and tights draped with layer after layer of see-through emerald toned cloth dotted with blackberries and crumpling, autumn leaves. His collar was lined with vines draping all down his body, and the crown that sat atop his beautifully braided blond hair was composed of twisted branches and thorns and small dark forest leaves. Puck, aka Pidge, followed closely behind him, dressed in a leotard made entirely of brown and green leaves, ears made to look like an elf’s, their own wings fitted for Pidge’s small back. 

The fairies awed, the music deepened as Oberon danced across the stage, but almost as soon as he did so, the music lightened to a sickly sweet tune. That’s when Titania came onto stage, dressed in a white leotard with pink roses around the trim of her neckline, her multi-layered white skirt stopped just above the knee. Her own crown was similar to Oberon’s, but the twigs and twisted branches on her head were silver, not brown. Her wings were the largest and fairest of them all, sparkling and white, a jarring comparison to the king, who had no wings at all. 

“The story is set up like this,” Lance had said to Hunk that day. “It’s actually kind of brilliant. See, the story is set centuries after the original tale, and only Titania, Oberon, Puck and their fairies are still alive, living peacefully in the forest.”

And that’s exactly what it looked like they were doing. Oberon looked pleased in his throne, Puck sitting on the armrest, playing a fiddle, while Titania attended to the fairies. Everything looked so at peace.

Then Titania collapsed. 

Letting out silent gasps, the fairies crowded around her, aiding her. Or, trying to. Oberon hopped to his feet. He gestured for the fairies to make way for him, and when they did, they found Titania on the ground, groggy. As well as her wings gone.

The crowd gaped along with Oberon, who was astonished, horrified. The fairies and Puck helped Titania to her feet, and Oberon swept her up to place her gently on his throne. Oberon pressed his palms against his temples, then glanced at Puck worryingly. Puck opened their mouth, but snapped it shut, not knowing what to say, just like the rest of the fairies. What happened to her? Why were her wings gone? How did they just… disappear? 

The twinkling yellows lights above suddenly faded to a cool blue, and a cutout of a moon dropped down from the top of the stage. Night had fallen, so Oberon looked to the fairies and waved a hand, signaling it was time for bed. They couldn’t do anything about her illness now, so it was best to let her rest and see how she was in the morning. Oberon settled down at the foot of the throne, Puck right by his side, and soon, all were asleep.

The music played along lightly, but with a sharp jab of the violin, Titania jerked awake. Slowly, she propped herself upright on the throne she’d been curled up on, and swept her gaze over the entirety of the forest and her fairies until finally stopping to look at Oberon. 

Such sadness was framed in her gaze. She knelt down to Oberon’s sleeping figure, and she rested a delicate hand on his cheek, feather light, so that when she pulled away, he didn’t even shift. With one last look at her fairies, and the love of her life, she ambled to the far left of the stage, and descended past the trees until she was no long visible. 

It wasn’t long until Oberon awoke, noticing Titania’s absence instantly. Startled, Oberon jumped to his feet, shaking Puck from his sleep, motioning to the empty throne. Puck whirled around, looking for her, then frantically began to point to the far left of the stage, to the “exit” to the forest.

Soon, Oberon and Puck descended into the trees, but instead of disappearing, the stage itself began to spin, following them. The stage was on some sort of spinning platform, following Oberon and Puck through a waning paper machete forest. That’s right, waning. Because as Oberon and Puck ran, the less and less foliage they passed, until they were standing at the end of the forest, right behind the tree line, where beyond was nothing but a barren stage with the background a simple image of torn down trees. In this barren field were men. 

With axes. 

And walking toward them, was Titania. 

Oberon gasped and hurried to follow her, but Puck held him back, knowing that they couldn’t leave the forest, otherwise they’d die. The forest was their life force—that’s why they’ve managed to stay around for this long. But then how was Titania out there? Walking, breathing, living?

The men with axes noticed Titania, and… and cheered, happy that she was joining them. But… how? And why? They didn’t know her. She was a fairy! They shouldn’t even be able to see her. 

Oberon stopped dead, breath hitching.

Oh, she wasn’t a fairy anymore.

She was _human_.

That’s why they could see her. That’s why she was able to live outside the forest. Oberon nearly collapsed to the floor. No, how could that be? 

The men pulled a blanket around Titania, and once she looked comfortable, the men picked up their axes and headed to the tree line. When they got there, they lifted up their axes and cut straight through the tree bordering the tree line. Oberon and Puck jumped back, further into the forest, right as the tree a few feet away tumbled down.

Then a scream pierced the air. 

Oberon jerked his head back to the deeper part of the forest. First, men were tearing down his forest, now had they found his fairies? 

Oberon and Puck raced back, running through the forest displayed on the spinning platform until they were back to the end where his throne sat. There were no men with axes. Only his fairies, but among them, one of them didn’t have wings. 

Oberon gasped. That’s what happened to Titania! Wait…

Realization struck Oberon. No. No it couldn’t be.

_Every time the humans took a tree, a fairy lost its wings._

Oberon looked to Puck and the rest of the fairies, sharing his knowledge as he gestured to the trees and their wings. That was it. There was no other explanation. When they lost their wings, they no longer belong to the forest, but to the humans.

Clutching his head, Oberon paced back and forth. Oh, how could this be? Why was this happening? This forest had been around for centuries; they couldn’t just… take it!

Suddenly, two other fairies fell to the ground, their wings gone. When they got up, they looked to the fairies, then to Oberon, and then nodded in apology, hurrying off into the forest to inevitably join the humans before Oberon could stop them. Soon, another fairy fell, then another, then another, all getting up with the loss of their wings, all coming to an understanding that this wasn’t home anymore, and they didn’t belong among the world of magic, they didn’t belong to their king anymore, so they left. Before Oberon had time to blink, it was down to Oberon, Puck, Keith, and Lance 

At this point, the men with axes had torn down enough of the trees to where their own forms peaked out from the edge of the forest just a few feet away from Oberon’s throne. Oberon had gone from livid to his fairies choosing to leave, to downright mortified. He didn’t want them to leave, not his fairies. He was losing everything in sight in a matter of minutes, and he could do nothing about it. He lost the love of his life, and he didn’t even know if he could go after her. He didn’t have wings. Once they tore down the last tree, what was to be of him? Would he be human, or would he die, just like his forest? 

Another tree was cut, and Puck staggered backward, his wings falling off his back and onto the floor. But by now, Puck understood that it was time to move on from the world of magic, and enter the world that was real. Puck was ready, but Oberon tried to convince them to stay, anyway. He was on his hands and knees, but all Puck did was give the king one last kiss on the forehead before joining the humans on the other side of the tree line, where they greeted him with open arms.

Oberon looked to his last two fairies, tears swimming down his face. _Oh, please don’t leave. Please, I’m begging you._

Keith only shot him a small sympathetic look, but Lance seemed… almost willing to stay. Hunk knew he was just good at acting, but in the heat of the moment, Keith probably thought something else. 

_Cut_. Before they knew it, another tree collapsed behind them, taking Keith’s wings, and narrowing it down the trees to two. But Keith remained steady, not for Oberon’s sake, but for Lance’s, waiting. 

_Cut_. Another tree. Down it went, followed by Lance’s wings. At first, he panicked a bit, gaping at the loss of the wings he’d had forever, but with a steady hand from Keith, he looked ready to leave. They both said their goodbyes to Oberon, hurrying to amble to the humans. 

“Yeah, after the second to last tree falls, we’re supposed to join the humans,” Hunk remembered Lance saying to him as he explained the ballet. 

But as Hunk watched now, that’s definitely not what happened. 

As Keith and Lance began for the tree line, Oberon reached out, grabbing Lance’s hand and pulling him into his arms. The audience let out a soft gasp, echoing Keith. 

Hunk swallowed hard. Oh God.

With a pleading look from Lotor, and a shy smile, Oberon took hold of Lance’s hand while he slid his other arm around his waist, pulling him into waltz. Or was it a waltz? Hunk wasn’t sure. But whatever dance it was, Lance knew it, following along Lotor’s every step as they spun around the stage. Hunk braced himself. From here, Keith looked ready to explode. 

The dance went on and on, and when it ended, Oberon leaned in, silently expressing how much he wanted him to stay with him, or rather, how much Lotor wanted him to be with him.

Lance look conflicted, frozen in place, probably because he didn’t know what to do now that the choreography was off, but to the audience’s eye, it looked like he didn’t know what, or who to decide to go with.

_Ah, jeez._

Thankfully, Keith cut in. He pulled Lance back to him, and with a glare thrown Lotor’s way, Keith led Lance to the humans on the other side of the last tree. The humans greeted them with ease. Now, there was only one tree standing in front of Oberon. Oberon staggered backward, defeated. The man on the other side brought up his axe, but before it could make contact with the tree, Oberon clenched his fist and slammed a furious palm against the ground. Purple smoke billowed out from under his hand, taking up the entirety of the stage. When the smoke cleared, the stage looked completely different. Instead of trees, and lights and mushrooms and ivies and flowers, there was only a simple background of a city, the ground cleared of roots and grass to make way for a grey concrete floor. Every single fairy that lost their wings were walking idly across the stage, dressed in suits and ties and grey business attire. 

The music slowed into a doleful tune. As the humans walked, the stage began to turn backward, revealing more of the same until it reached the end of the platform, where that single tree still stood, and behind it, the throne in which Oberon sat, head in his hands. 

Alone.

The music cut off abruptly, just in tune with the spotlight going off. The curtains came to a close, followed by the audience jumping out of their seats, applauding. Hunk clapped, too, of course, but his own applause lagged the vigor of the audience in front of him. While that show was fantastic, all he could think about was how Keith must be reacting to all of this. Hunk sighed. Guess he should go find out….

 

What the _hell_ was that?

After taking a bow—a strained one, on Keith’s end—he parted from those he’d linked hands with to hurry over to Lotor on the other side of the stage. Just what in God’s name was he thinking? Well, he was about to find out. He was half-way there when Coran stepped up from backstage, cutting him off. “Oh, that was fantastic!” he cheered, gesturing everyone around him. “Overall, outstanding work. But…” He raised an eyebrow at Lotor, then jabbed a finger at him. “Now, I don’t generally like sudden improve, but that dance you pulled back there? That was fantastic!”

Keith bit his lip so hard he was sure he drew blood. 

“But I would prefer you to give me a little heads up next time. Just for future reference.”

“Of course, I apologize,” Lotor said, lifting his eyes to Keith, giving him a small, smug smile.

 _I could deck him right now_ , Keith thought. _It’d be so easy_. 

“I don’t even know where that came from,” Coran said, looking to Lance. “Did you two rehearse that?” 

Lance had been silent this whole time, fidgeting his thumbs, eyes darting between Lotor and Keith, then finally Coran when he addressed him. “Um, no, it wasn’t.”

“Well, you two must play the leading roles for our next show. We can have—”

Coran continued to ramble, but Keith couldn’t hear him over the blood pounding in his ears. Lotor, and Lance, together? No, no. _No_.

“No!” Keith shouted, silencing everyone. Suddenly, all eyes were on him, and felt his cheeks redden. He said that out loud, didn’t he? “I… I mean…”

“He means,” Pidge went on, stepping into the middle of their huddle. “That it isn’t fair to simply give parts away anymore.”

Keith eyed Pidge. Where were they going with this? 

At first, Pidge didn’t even seem to know, but went with it anyway. “I mean, we’re all great, but… uh…” An idea struck them, and their voice gained a sudden confidence. “Wouldn’t it be fair if we competed for the roles? Isn’t it time to choose amongst ourselves, rather than letting someone else do it? No offense, Coran.”

Coran’s mustache wiggled. “You know, I like your moxy, Pidge. Yes, yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea!” He turned to look at the dancers. “We’ll have a small competition, and you all will be the judges of who gets to be the leading roles in the next show. How does that sound?”

Everyone murmured in agreement, but all Keith could do was glower at Lotor, suddenly completely on board with this arrangement. A competition? Bring it on. Keith had proved he was good enough to be in the advanced class, to perform in a show, to be the lead of that show, and he wasn’t about to let Lotor shatter his confidence. Not again. Lotor believed he wasn’t good enough to pursue a career in ballet, the path that would not only secure a good future for him, but a future with Lance. Well, he’d show him how wrong he was. Because, whether he liked it or not, (and he really, really didn’t) ballet and Lance coincided, and he needed both. Like hell Lotor was going to take that away from him just because he believed he was better suited for him. No, screw that. He didn’t know anything, and Keith was prepared to do whatever it took to prove him wrong. 

This was a declaration of war, and Keith was _going_ to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW alright, I'm glad I managed to get this out. UM I don't have much to say about this chapter beside that I hope you guys enjoyed it. Your comments and encouragements about the previous chapter really pushed me to make this one as good as I could make it, so thank you all so much, you have no idea how much your guys' support means to me. Much love and happy reading <3
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> [My trash twitter](https://twitter.com/Renommuss)
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> [My extra trashy tumblr](http://renommus.tumblr.com/)
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> AH CRAP FORGOT TO ADD THIS: Big thanks to @SunWasTaken for suggesting A Midsummer Night's dream for the ballet. Even though I didn't write it out exactly, I never would have had the idea for the ballet if it wasn't for them. Big thanks!


	11. For Lance

“Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty…”

With sweat pooling from every inch of Keith’s skin, he grunted as he lowered himself down for each push up, only stopping once his hands got so slick with sweat he lost his grip of the dance studio floor underneath his palms. When that was the case, he ditched the pushups and did some jumping jacks instead, biting the inside of his cheek at the persistent pain from the blisters on his feet. Or maybe it was his joints. But hey, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?

It’d been two weeks since Coran declared that they would compete amongst their classmates for the lead roles in the next ballet, and Keith was working overtime to make sure he was the one who got one of those parts, and not that prissy, self-absorbed, entitled piece of trash such as Lotor.

After doing about forty more jumping jacks, he transitioned to burpees. He was too absorbed in not passing out that he completely failed to notice someone had approached him from behind. That is, until he felt them take a jab at his spine.

Gasping, Keith jumped forward, slipping even farther into the puddle of sweat that’d formed around him. He looked back, rolling his eyes at who was there. “God, Pidge,” he managed to get out, resting a hand over his heart. “You…” His sentence faded, brow furrowed at what Pidge was wearing: pajamas. How late was it?

Rubbing their eyes, Pidge ruined their face after taking in the smell of the place—Keith had grown immune to it, but to a fresh nose, he couldn’t imagine how foul this room must have smelled, given the previous under layer of stench from afternoon classes. “How long have you been in here?” Pidge asked as they pinched their nose. “I thought you went to bed hours ago—I saw you head in after dinner.”

Keith shrugged, grabbing his towel near his dance bag. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Jesus, Keith,” Pidge sighed, rubbing their temple. “Dude, this is the fifth time this week I’ve caught you like this—what did I tell you about overdoing it? You’re going to get hurt.”

Shaking his head, Keith draped his towel across his brow. “Pidge, auditions are in two days. I can’t rest now. I gotta—m—” Keith winced as he felt a blister on his foot pop, followed by the liquid warmth that exploded within his dance shoe. Rolling his eyes, Keith hunkered down on the floor and pulled off his dance shoe. Pidge gasped, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Keith had previously wrapped his feet in cellophane solely due to the blisters that he kept getting. Anytime they popped, blood would soak his dance shoes and he’d leave trails of it on the dance floor behind him. Now, the cellophane caught it all, resulting in the white tissue paper substance to turn completely red by the end of each practice.

Slowly, Pidge joined him on the floor. “Keith… this is little much. Even for you.” Their gaze hardened. “Is… this about Lotor?”

Keith slid his dance bag closer, getting out more cellophane. “I gotta beat him, Pidge. It’s the only way I can make sure that he’s not spending time with Lance.”

Pidge scoffed. “Yeah, and speaking of Lance, have you maybe, I dunno, _told_ him about what Lotor said to you?”

Keith sighed. “No.”

“Why not—”

“Because I’m afraid of putting the idea in his head,” Keith snapped, repeating out loud the exact thought that’d been scrolling through his head for weeks. “If I tell him what Lotor’s here for, that he wants to be with him, then it’ll put the idea in his head that he could be with Lotor if he wanted to.”

“But he doesn’t.”

“Maybe not now, but what if he wants to later? What if, once he knows that Lotor likes him, he starts looking at him in that way, too? What if he realizes that he… that he is suited better for him? That—”

“Keith, stop,” Pidge demanded. “Maybe if you just ask him—”

“Not gonna happen,” Keith said. “No, instead, I’m going to make sure that I’m the one better suited for Lance. In all aspects, which includes being just as good a dancer as Lotor.”

Pidge stared at him, and if they hadn’t been giving him that exact same look for weeks now, he would be annoyed, but now he was just used to it. “Keith, you know you sound crazy, right? What the hell has Lance said about you acting his way?”

Keith started peeling off the strips of cellophane, making Pidge turn their head away in disgust to the mess that was his feet. “He doesn’t know. Why do you think I practice this hard at night? It’s because, during the day, I’m with him to make sure Lotor isn’t coming around.” Once he was done taking off the cellophane, he started unrolling a new strip over his feet, drawing a skeptical look from Pidge. They bit their lip, as though contemplating whether or not to respond. They snatched the cellophane from his hands. “Hey!”

“You’re done for tonight,” they said matter-of-factly, yanking him up from the floor, and against Keith’s reluctance to leave, they dragged him to the door anyway. “You need sleep.”

After struggling a bit, Keith finally yanked his arm away from Pidge. “No, I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” Pidge barked, an extra dose of savagery in their tone. “I’m not going to watch you kill yourself over this stupid part; I already have Lance’s problems to deal with, and I definitely don’t need yours, too. Besides, you’re not going to get this part if you don’t sleep. So, go to your dorm, take a shower, and go to bed. You hear me?”

The way Pidge was looking at him, with eyes as fierce as a lion’s, only made him want to go against their orders that much more. Who were they to tell him what to do? What gave them the right?

Then he saw what lied beneath those hardened eyes, a reflection of what they truly felt toward his mannerism lately: worry. Pidge was worried.

Swallowing, Keith rubbed his arm. He’d been so absorbed in Lance lately, he completely forgot to consider Pidge’s feelings in all of this. He kept forgetting that he had people who cared about his well-being now, beside Shiro, and he felt like shit for doing so. “Okay,” he agreed, already grabbing his dance bag. “Okay, sleep, you got it.”

He knew Pidge wouldn’t admit it, but he could tell they were relieved. “Keith, you do know you don’t have to change yourself for Lance, right? He likes you for you. Not because of how well you dance.”

Keith shrugged. “I know,” he answered. “But… it’s more than that. It’s not about being good enough, exactly, but getting good enough to make sure me and Lance stay together.”

“Keith, even if you become good enough to get into the same company as Lance, that’s not a guarantee that you’ll stay together.”

“And I know this,” Keith argued. “But… it’s a start.”

The corner of Pidge’s lip tugged downward, but they didn’t say anything, the only form of response they gave was a small nod and a thumb pointing to his dorm. “Alright, well, night. And like I said: get some sleep.”

With all the thoughts running through Keith’s mind, sleep was going to be hard to obtain, even after what he wished had been a relaxing shower. Once dry, Keith settled into bed, urging sleep to come, and groaning once it didn’t. He was too busy thinking about Lance. What he was going, who was he talking to, what he was thinking about, _who_ he was thinking about…

_Maybe I should ask him?_

It was only… what, twelve? Lance was bound to be up. Grabbing his phone from his bedside table, he texted him, waiting hopelessly for a reply.

 

Curled up in bed, flipping through page after page of articles about better, more beneficial stretches for male dancers on his phone, Lance was pleasantly surprised when a message from Keith floated over the display of search results.

_Keith, 12:02pm: You up?_

Geesh, even the sight of his name brought a smile to his face. Of course, he started texting back, but was interrupted when a call from Lotor appeared. "Lotor?" Lance muttered. "This late?"

“Uh… hello?” he answered.

“You busy at the moment?” Lotor asked.

Lance glanced back the clock on his phone again. “Lotor, it’s like 12:00.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

Lance paused. Why was Lotor even calling him? They haven’t spoken in weeks, not since their last show, and that had ended on a supremely weird note. That improve he did? What was that? He never did get a chance to ask. Since that night, Keith’s been the one occupying most of his time…. but now that he had him on the line. “No, I’m not busy,” he replied. “And hey, about last week…”

“Meet me near the park bench near the academy. We can talk there.” He hung up a second later, and Lance scoffed. The park bench it was…

Twenty minutes later, he spotted Lotor just down the street, face insouciant, or maybe he was only acting that way; he was always good at putting on a mask. To do ballet, you kind of needed to be. “Hey,” Lance greeted, taking a seat next to him. “Why did you want to meet?”

Suddenly, the “I don’t care about anything or anyone” look on his face broke for a fraction of a second, revealing… dare he say a twinge of nervousness underneath the façade? “Well,” Lotor started, eyes drawn to his fidgeting hands. “I haven’t seen you in a while. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was being avoided.”

Avoided? “What, no. No I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve just been busy with Keith lately.” And why did he even care in the first place?

Some form of understanding settled on Lotor’s face. “Ah, your guard dog.”

“He’s not my guard dog. He’s just protective.”

“Of me?”

Lance shrugged. “Of… everyone, I guess.” He didn’t want to go into depth about Keith right now, not only because this wasn’t about Keith, but because he himself didn’t even know what had gotten into him lately. Don’t get him wrong, he was loving the attention from his super cute boyfriend, but he could tell there was something more going on him then what he was showing on the surface, and every time he tried to ask, he either changed the subject or found an excuse to leave the room for a moment, only to come back with a new conversation piece in mind. It was… odd, and Lance planned to find out what was bothering him, but right now, he needed to confront Lotor. “Lotor, now that we’re here, I need to ask you about our last showcase.”

“What about it?”

“Well, what _was_ that? The improve?”

Lotor raised an eyebrow at him. “It was exactly that: improve, a little something to add to the show. Thought it would add some flare to the performance.”

“And that’s all there was to it?”

Lotor scoffed playfully. “And here I thought you enjoyed flare. f I remember correctly, you were all about adding a little extra something to your performances back at Arlag.”

Lance flinched at the name of the place, and it was then that Lotor’s indifferent act shattered. “Lance…” he said softly, so softly he hardly heard him. He turned his body to face him, resting the side of his hand delicately against the space near his knee. “Lance… the reason I brought you out tonight is because… I wanted to apologize for what happened back there, at Arlag. I wanted to tell you the moment I saw you again, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I suppose my pride got the better of me. But… Lance, I am so, _so_ sorry.”

Lance could only stare at him, confused. “Sorry? For what?”

Lotor lowered his head, silky locks of platinum hair falling over his face. “For not… doing anything,” he growled with his fists clenched. “I should have warned you about what Arlag was doing, but I was so self-absorbed in making sure that if I was miserable, everyone else had to be, too. If I had to face what the teachers at that school did, then so did you. I…” He lifted his head up, eyes brimming with tears. “I ruined you Lance, when I could have prevented it all, and I’m so sorry.”

Silence grew between them, and Lance couldn’t bring himself to break it, not with the broken expression on Lotor’s face. He’d never seen him cry, let alone be brought to tears. “Lotor… no, no, none of that was your fault. You can’t blame yourself for the what Arlag did. And besides, you did do something: you testified.”  
Lotor scooted closer, adamantly shaking his head. “I should have done more.”

“Lotor, stop,” Lance said gently, even adding in a smile. “I don’t blame you, Lotor. For any of it. So you shouldn’t either. It’s all in the past now, anyway. There’s no need to be broken over about it anymore, okay? So, please, just…” Trailing off, Lance studied Lotor’s eyes, and just how close they were to each other. When did they get this close? Clearing his throat, Lance looked down, too self-conscious to scoot away; that’d be implying that he didn’t feel comfortable being this close to him, and in all honestly, he didn’t. Not entirely. They’d been through something horrific together, and because of that horror, there would always be that bond between them, connected by their shared experiences that would forever haunt them.

Wiping his tears away, Lotor leaned back, breaking… whatever it was that just passed between them. “Thank you, Lance,” he began, smiling slightly. “Um… look, if it’s not too much trouble, do you think it’d be possible to… well, start over? Try and be… friends, perhaps?”

… Friends? Lotor wanted to be friends? Man, tonight was just getting weirder and weirder. “Turning over a new leaf, are we now?”

Lotor chuckled, a sound like soft bells upon hearing it for the first time. “Trying to. In fact, that’s the sole reason why I came to Altea. To start over.”

“Really?”

Lotor nodded. “As hard as it is to believe, I wasn’t making much headway with my peers in New York. Too many knew of what happened at Arlag, and… Well, I needed a fresh start, and when I discovered you went here, and that you obviously had moved on, I wanted to do the same.”

Lance rubbed his palms against his thighs, not knowing what to say. When it came to Lotor, this was new territory for him, this vulnerable, honest state. But he had to admit, it was better than the usual cold-shoulder smugness. “Well…” he started, clearing his throat. “Consider your wish granted, brochacho.”

Lotor cocked his head, a bemused smirk touching his lips. “Oh?”

Lance crossed his arms, nodding in affirmation. “Mhm. From now on, you’re with me. Ballet bros for life.”

Another shot of laughter came from Lotor. “‘Ballet bros’? Really now?”

Lance shrugged. “Hey, as far as I’m concerned, the name chose us, not the other way around. And you heard me, man. From here on out, we’re putting the past behind us and taking on the world of ballet as amigos! How does that sound?”

The smile that overtook Lotor’s face… it was as golden and bright as his eyes. “I would like that.”

“Good,” Lance declared, settling things. He didn’t know tonight was going to go down this way, but he was glad he did. The faster he could move on from his past, the easier it would be to make peace with his present. _Things are looking up_ , Lance thought, and hoped it stayed that way.

 

The day before auditions had arrived, and every inch of Keith hurt.

Getting dressed felt like a battle he’d already lost, but was too stubborn to admit so. Every fiber in his muscles felt as though they’d been glued together, making it almost impossible to move or bend properly. Walking was a struggle, so how could he possibly think that he’d be able to dance today? Maybe Pidge was right. He should rest, and given the state of his body, he didn’t think he could do anything but that. Auditions weren’t until tomorrow. He could take an ice bath and stretch the whole day, make sure he was limbered up for tomorrow. He’d trained as hard as he possible could—he was ready for tomorrow, and going over the steps today weren’t going to do anything but reiterate that fact, or hell, make it worse.

Then he thought of Lance, all by himself, with _Lotor_.

Gritting his teeth, Keith finished getting his tights on. One more practice wasn’t going to hurt him.

Walking stiffly through the halls, he managed to get to the classroom, avoiding the eyes of his classmates as best he could as he headed to the back corner of the room. Lotor had been the center of Coran’s eye lately, so Keith prayed that he wasn’t called out due to how poorly he’d be dancing today. Walking here had been one of most difficult things he’d had to face since his first day at Altea.

“Oh look, you made it,” Pidge rejoiced drily, stretching at the bar next to him. “Did sleep do you some good?”

Even smiling hurt. “Sure did.”

Lance walked in next, his smile the only thing warming Keith’s muscles enough to bend his knees properly. Coran and Lotor followed close behind him, chatting. When Lotor parted to join the front of the floor, Coran clapped his hands and began class. “Okay, line up, line up, line up! Doing some warm ups. Taking it light today in preparation for tomorrow’s auditions. We’re doing a few butterflies than we’ll be out of here!”

Butterflies? Like butterfly _stretches_? Oh, Keith could have kissed Coran.

They warmed up at the bars. Once they were done, Keith’s muscled had loosened up enough to attempt to lower himself to the floor, but while doing so, he noticed that everyone else was lining up at the back of the room. Keith froze, then asked Pidge as they passed, “Um… what exactly are butterflies?”

Most of the class had already lined up near the back, Lotor at the front of the line. Then, on Coran’s command, Lotor did a rapid-fire spin, and at the end of that spine, he used the one foot he was spinning on to throw himself high into the air with just as much force as a comet would when plummeting to earth. In the air, he bent his knees behind him, arms spread behind him, to only land back on the foot that he used to jump on.

“Holy shit,” Keith breathed. He’d never felt true fear, but after today, he knew he could no longer say that.

“Yeah, it’s a bitch of a move,” Pidge said. “Well, obviously not for Lotor. But that’s probably why Coran’s making us learn it.”

Oh no oh no oh no oh _no_.

“You good?” Pidge asked, noticing him blanching. “Here, if you want to skip it, I’m sure Coran will understand.”

That was the best idea he’d heard all day. He was about to take Pidge up on it when he saw the… the _smile_ Lotor gave him. A smile that permeated mockery.

“I’ll go next,” Keith heard himself say, the fire in his heart warming his muscles enough to stride strongly to the front. He could hear Pidge’s disapproval from across the room, but… they didn’t understand. He had to do this. Backing away wasn’t an option. Not for Keith, anyway.

He mimicked the spin he saw Lotor do. Then, at the end of that spin, he pushed all of his frustration and anger into his foot, jumping higher than he ever had before. He’d jumped so high, spinning into the jump, that he could barely hear his classmates gasp from down below. He let himself smile, knowing he’d done good, and prepared to land on the foot he spun off with. Gravity pulled him down, his foot coming in contact with the floor a moment later, followed by a horrifying snap as the rest of his body added weight to it.

“ _Ah_!” he shouted. Unable to put weigh on his foot, he slammed his other foot down to balance himself, slipping in the process. He slammed onto the polished wooden floor, groaning in agony.

“Keith!”

From the flurry of vibrations he felt through the floor, he knew his classmates were running to him, but all he could focus in was the sheer, torturous pain in his foot, followed by pain in his heart at the fear of what the hell he’d just done. The pain overlook every sense, but somehow, Lance’s voice cut through, sounding distance, but near enough to understand. “Keith? Keith, it’s going to be okay.”

But as comforting as Lance made it sound, Keith knew it wouldn’t be.

 

“You, my friend, sure did some damage.”

With Lance, Pidge, and Hunk at his side, Keith sat on the infirmary beds waiting for his results, leg propped up by a sling. He’d been amped up on pain meds afterward, but he was coherent enough to want to jump at the doctor that held the fate of his dance career in his hands.

“Oh, really, now?” Keith huffed. “Could have fooled me.”

Pidge nudged him. “Sh. So, what’s wrong with him? Did he break something?”

The doctor slipped out Keith’s X rays from his folder, squinting. “Your friend here gave himself a stress fracture in his foot. Nothing too serious, but at the rate your friends told me you were going, you could have permanently ruined your foot if you tried to push through this.”

“How soon can I get back out?” Keith rushed to say, unconcerned with all the medical jargon being thrown his way.

The doc tapped his pen against his clipboard, waiting five agonizingly and furiously long seconds before saying, “Uh, four weeks, give or take.”

Four. Weeks.

For a moment, the pain he felt from his injury was nothing compared to the thought of not dancing for that long. “A… month?” he echoed weakly.

“Mhm. It happens, kid. Just think of this as a lesson in not pushing yourself too hard, or shit like this will happen. Ruin your career. We’ll put you in a brace, throw in some crutches. Just take it easy and you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

Keith wanted to cry. He _would_ cry as soon as he was alone. 

“I’ll start the process for that brace," the doctor noted. Once he left, silence descended over the room. Keith kept his eyes on the ceiling, trying his best not to tear up. But when he felt Lance’s finger intertwine with his, it was nearly impossible.

“Keith, I’m… I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “I know how much this part meant to you…”

 _No, you don’t._ Keith turned his head away, biting back any remark that he might regret later. He already screwed up his foot; he didn’t want to do the same thing with his friends. “It’s… it’s fine, Lance, nothing you could have done about it.”

Pidge’s face twisted in sadness, while Hunk went into mother hen mode. “Keith, don’t you worry, okay? We’re going to take care of you. We’ll bring you all the food you can eat—I can even ask Shay if she’ll make those extra delicious peanut butter cookies that are just the, oh, so good, and—”

Pidge’s eyes widened. Her hand shot up, cutting Hunk off. “Right. Now that you’re injured, we’ll be spending _all our free time_ taking care of you.” Pidge’s gaze was so intense he was sure it was going to burn holes through him. It wasn’t until they nodded at Lance that he knew why.

_Oh._

“Pidge’s right, Keith,” Lance said, inching closer. “We’re going to take care of you, alright?”

Stifling a knowing smile, Keith nodded, letting himself be pampered. The burden of not surpassing Lotor still pressed upon him, but at least he knew Lance was safe with him in the meantime.

That night, Pidge thought best if Lance was the one to take him back to his dorm, and like hell Keith would disagree.

“There ya go,” Lance said as he propped another pillow under his cast covered foot. “There, all set. Comfortable?”

Keith shifted on his bed, hating how restricted he felt. But, for Lance’s sake, he nodded. “As comfortable as I can be.”

Lance grimaced, looking abashedly guilty for some reason, as if this was his fault somehow. “Lance, please don’t blame yourself,” he said, hoping he was in the ballpark of where Lance’s mind was right now.

“I should have stopped you,” Lance said, answering Keith’s suspicion. “How could I not have noticed you were doing this to yourself?”

“Because I purposely kept it from you. Just… here…” He reached for his hand, which Lance quickly gave him. He pulled him to the side of bed, drawing him closer. “I have no one to blame but myself, okay?”

Lance’s brow creased in concern, so Keith leaned closer to press his own brow to his. “Stay for a while?”

Lance swallowed, those jewel toned eyes laden with worry and misguided shame. “Of course,” he whispered.

Side by side on Keith’s bed, his laptop propped up on Lance’s lap, they watched this document on stars Keith _would_ have been paying attention to if he wasn’t so wrapped up in his injury. How stupid was he for doing this to himself? In pushing himself, he thought he was going to make himself better, not worse. Now, because of his stupidity, Lotor was bound to get the part he was gearing toward, and he’d be accompanying Lance. _His_ Lance.

Lance tapped his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. “Hey, you okay?”

“Um, yeah, why?”

“Clutching my arm a little tight there.”

Keith looked down. His arm was in fact wrapped around Lance’s like a snack squeezing its prey. “Oh, sorry.” He pulled away, taking in a deep, deep breath to try and clear his thoughts. But at that point, his thoughts were capering around his head so furiously it was hard to think straight, eventually narrowing it down to two subjects: Lance, and Lotor, both bouncing around in quick succession over, and over, and over…

“Keith?” Lance pressed.

 _Lance, Lotor, Lance, Lotor, Lance, Lotor—ah, enough!_ “I need to tell you something,” Keith blurted, the words flowing effortlessly from his mouth. “I wasn’t working this hard just for the part… I was working this hard to make sure Lotor didn’t get the part, to make sure he didn’t become your partner and were then forced to spend rehearsal time with him… instead of being with me.”

Lance stared at him, his face unreadable. _Say something!_ Keith urged inwardly.

Finally, the corner of his lips quirked upwards, which, for some reason, sent Keith reeling. He thought this was funny? “Lotor? Why… Oh, Keith, you’re not still worried about him are you? I told you; he’s harmless.”

“Yeah, well I don’t think he is. Actually, I _know_ he isn’t.”

“Keith, come on, you did all of this because you were jealous? I mean, don’t get me wrong, that’s kind of hot, but like… Lotor? He’s just a friend.”

Keith arched an eyebrow. “He’s a ‘friend’? Since when did you two become friends?”

Lance froze, but shrugged off whatever guilt that’d been splayed all over his face and admitted, “Last night. He texted and we talked… then he apologized for not doing anything at Arlag when he had the chance, for warning me for what that place actually does. He practical begged for my forgiveness. So, we’re cool now. Friends. Just. Friends.”

Keith stared at him, the world shifting underneath him. He’s oblivious. Lance had no idea what Lotor was truly after, and if Keith told him, he would only be implementing the idea that they could possibly be together in Lance’s head, make him call into question who’s truly better suited for him. God, what a sneaky son of a bitch. Lotor managed to get on Lance’s good side—now, even if Keith did admit to Lance what Lotor said, he’ll defend him! Or confront him… but even then Lotor’s silver tongue could probably get him out of anything.

No, he didn’t need to tattle. He could handle this on his own. He didn’t need to darken Lotor’s name in order to win. All he needed was for Lance to think of him, and _only_ him.

He leaned forward and reached a hand out to cup the back of Lance’s head, pulling him into a firm kiss. Lance froze against him for a moment, but softened as Keith continued, resting his hand on his chest, his touching only spurring him on.

_Okay, breath, Keith, slow down. Lance wants this. He wants you. Don’t rush anything._

But Lotor talked to him. How many other times was he going to corner Lance and gain his trust? What if he falls for him?

Keith scooched closer, letting his other hand rest on the side of Lance’s neck, pulling him closer. Lance gasped against his lips, and Keith dived back into him again, suckling his bottom lip until he managed to slip his tongue into his mouth.

_“I’ll let you have your fun, Keith,” Lotor’s words rang in Keith’s ears, “because sooner or later, you’ll realize that you’re not meant to be with Lance. He deserves someone who knows his pain—someone he can compete with, and that, my friend, is not you.”_

Keith jerked at that, fury filling his core. Oh yeah? Well Lotor wasn’t the one kissing Lance, making him feel good. Or at least, he hoped. “This okay?” Keith breathed as he pulled away about a centimeter. He moved the hand on Lance’s neck and slipped it down to his chest and below his belly button, skimming the line of exposed skin with his thumb.

With the hesitancy in Lance’s eyes, Keith started to pull his hand away, but Lance pulled it back, nodding. In fact, he leaned back far enough to slip his shirt over his head, revealing the beautiful display of taut muscles and smooth cinnamon skin. Keith could feel his face going red, and for a second, he short-circuited. What were words again? Or limbs? Was he supposed to move them?

Lance chuckled, pulling Keith into a kiss, slowly, gently, coaxing him back to functionality. Finally, Keith knew what to do with his hands again, dragging them down his chest. He turned further toward Lance, rising up to swing a leg over Lance’s torso, forgetting his injury entirely. That is, until he put weight on it, sending flares of hot searing pain up his leg.

“Ah—” Keith’s breath caught in his throat, and, wincing, he pushed himself onto his back again, propping his foot up on the mountain of pillows. His broken, battered, bruised, helpless foot. The injury he got trying to make sure him and Lotor weren’t going to get closer, which is exactly what was going to happen, what’s _been_ happening! “Ugh!” Keith cried, kicking away the pillows with his good foot, sending them flying over the edge of the bed.

Lance let out a breath through flabbering lips, scratching his head, a smile crossing his face. “Relax there, cow boy,” he said as he patted his chest. “There will be plenty of time for that once your foot is healed.”

The filter Keith was using—or trying to—had been thrown away like the rest of his pillow. “Not if he steals you away from me first,” he growled so lowly that he was surprised Lance even caught it.

Lance’s smile chipped some. “‘Steal me away’? Who?”

“Lotor!” Keith exploded, bouncing up to rest on his weight on his knees. “Lance, he’s playing you! And you’re so oblivious you don’t even see it!”

Lance, smile now gone, shifted backwards, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“He told me why he’s here, Lance,” Keith went on. “He’s here because he wants you. He came to Altea specifically so he could steal you away from me, like you’re some sort of…some sort of prize!”

“Did he say that?” Lance snapped. “Did he say that he’s here to win me like some sort of prize? Those words exactly?”

“Well… no.” Keith hesitated. Was he mad at Lotor… or him? “B—but he _implied_ it.”

“Implied it? Keith, alright, I may not know Lotor well, but I know him well enough to know he, nor anyone exposed to Arlag’s… tendencies, would treat anyone like an object. You know why? Because _we_ were the ones treated like objects. He’s here to start over, Keith. End of story.”

“Yeah, with you! Lance he straight up told me that we weren’t going to make it as a couple. Why else would he feel the need to say that if he didn’t want you for himself?”

Shaking his head, Lance left his bed and pulled his shirt on, grabbing his dance bag.

“Where are you going?” Keith asked, unable to hide the frenzied desperation in his voice.

“To ask him myself,” Lance said as he pulled the strap over his head.

He was going directly to Lotor? “What, you’re not going to take my word for it?”

“Keith, enough!” Lance practically shouted, his face harboring an expression he’d never seen on Lance’s face before: Fury. “Do you have any idea what you sound like right now? You’re accusing Lotor of treating me like an object… Well, look at you! This whole time, you haven’t been worried about Lotor hurting me, but rather becoming obsessed with the thought that I might leave you for him! You think he’s the one treating me like an object that he’s fighting to obtain… Well, look at you! You’re the one who’s acting territorial, like I’m some piece of meat. And you know what? I really don’t need it. Not now, or ever.”

Keith felt hollow inside, like every scrap of fight in him just… withered away, leaving him with stark despair. “Lance, I…”

Lance tsked, stalking off and slamming the door behind him, leaving the room as quiet and empty as Keith himself.

 _Oh, god_ , he thought to himself. _What did I just do?_

But he knew exactly what he just did. He lost Lance.

Keith didn’t move from his bed. Not for a while, anyhow. It was when he caught sight of his crutches did he leave his bed.

 

“Where are you?” Lance barked into his phone as soon as Lotor picked up.

Silence on the other end. Then, “Dressing room. 208. What—”

Lance hung up, his stride quickening. He was seeing red and he didn’t know how to stop it, so lashing out at the one person who turned his beautiful, patient (at least with him) dedicated boyfriend into a territorial obsessed lunatic was worth a shot at lulling the rage boiling in his stomach.

He exploded into the dressing room, finding Lotor in front of a mirror, comparing leotards to his frame. He glanced back as Lance slammed the door behind him. “Are you here to start over, or because you want to be with me?” he demanded.

Lotor studied him, taking in… whatever it was that he thought he saw written across Lance’s face. “I am here to start over,” he said slowly, putting the leotards down. “With ballet… and with you.”

Lance didn’t know how to respond, so Lotor kept going. “I didn’t come here for you, if that’s what you’re thinking, but rather myself. To be the person I should have been back in Arlag. After I saw the video of Keith kissing you, it reminded me of all the times I stood by and watched people did what they wanted with you. So, already hating life in New York, I came here hoping for a fresh start. Not only with my dance career, but with those that I harmed. You.”

At this point, Lance didn’t know whether to believe him or not. “So, what about Keith? You decided that threatening him was a good way to start off this whole ‘new school new me’ thing?”

“I did nothing of the sorts. I simply called into question how long you two will last.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Lotor rolled his eyes, irritation so evident in his expression. “You have a year until graduation—a year to get close to this boy, and then be torn apart when you realize how you and Keith, as much as you hope, won’t work. Keith will either quit ballet to follow you, or you’ll each attend different schools—either way, you both will have things to work on, and no room for each other. Lance, you go into things without thinking them through. I’m not saying he’s not good for you—the fact that he got you to open up again must have been a huge step for you. I just… I worry for the how things will go.”

“I can take care of myself, Lotor.”

“I know, but you shouldn’t have to. Not after what we’ve been through.”

The gentleness in his voice… it startled Lance, and made his own rage toward this whole situation subside. But only a little. “So that’s why you came to Altea? To be my, what, protector?”

Lotor rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t exactly word it like that, but yes. And it’s not the main reason. Just one of them,”

“And you came here to do that… as my friend.”

“Yes.”

“ _Just_ as friends?”

Lotor raised an eyebrow before realizing what he was implying. “Yes, Lance, just as friends.”

Lance let himself breath.

“Of course,” Lotor went on, a hint of something precarious in his words. “If something more were to arise between us, I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

Lance couldn’t tell whether or not he was joking. The befuddled look on his face sure got a rise out of Lotor though. He laughed lightly. “Go back to your boyfriend, Lance. I’ll see you in practice.”

From the way he left things with Keith, he didn’t even know if he still had a boyfriend. Sighing, Lance treaded off, ready to find out.

 

Keith rapt his knuckles against the door, praying it was the right one.

It opened a few beats later, the face behind it bringing only so much comfort to Keith. “Can I stay here tonight?” he asked through the tears swimming down his face.

Shiro opened the door further, taking in the crutches, the cast, and the tears. He nodded.

The Garrison’s dorms were slightly more cramp than those at Altea, but that didn’t deter Shiro from letting Keith take his bed while he took the floor.

He told him everything that night. From practice to Lance to Lotor. “I screwed up, Shiro,” he said as he finished, body feeling like lead. “I screwed up, and I can’t fix it.” 

Shiro placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Keith. It’ll blow over. The good thing is you now know you made a mistake—now all you need to do is correct it.”

“How?” Keith asked.

Shiro rested his palm around the back of Keith’s neck, squeezing it. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Keith huffed. He wasn’t so sure about that. Not this time.

The rest of the night they spent catching up on not-so depressing matters, like how Shiro was doing at the Garrison (exceptionally well, Keith was sure, even though he’d never admit it), how his relationship with Matt was going (good, Keith assumed, considering the red-hot blush that bloomed on his cheeks whenever he brought up his name). Overall, it was good to see Shiro again. He always reminded Keith that things weren’t as bad as he made them out to be, even when he felt as though they were. He fell asleep sometime around three. The next day, he awoke around the same time, only in the afternoon.

“Jesus…” Keith grumbled as he looked at the clock on Shiro’s side table. There was a note next to it, along with a power bar, painkillers, and a glass of water.

_Don’t strain yourself_ , the note said. _I’ll be back later for dinner tonight. Try and relax, and remember, everything will be okay._

_\- Shiro_

Keith sat back, his cast covered foot taking up his line of vision. The events of last night came crashing down on him again, doubling the pain that pulsed in the base of his foot. He could call Lance, but after the way he was treating him, he doubt he’d pick up. In fact, at this hour, he would just be finishing up practice, or, in fact, auditions. No doubt he got the part along with Lotor.

He popped a pain pill, downed the water, nibbled on the power bar, and… sat. Because what else was he supposed to do? He was pitiful, and he deserved to be. In one fell swoop, he’d lost Lance, and ballet, and there was nothing he could do about it.

_You’re a screw up, Keith, always will be, might as well accept that now._

“Oh, fuck off,” Keith told the voice in his head, downing another pain pill. He sunk back into bed, pulling the covers over him. He couldn’t do shit about his crappy life, so he might as well sleep and pretend that none of it was real, and this was all just a cruel dream he’d wake up from soon enough.

He closed his eyes, letting the soft lull of sleep overtake him, when a knock came from the door. Then another, then another.

“Shiro’s not here,” Keith yelled, which, for some godforsaken reason, only spurred on the incessant knocking.

“He’s not here!” Keith shouted again, his voice barely making it over the pounding against the door. It went on for a good minute, finally driving Keith to reach his crutches and shuffle to the door, yanking it open. “What—”

“Before you slam the door in my face,” Lotor started, hands spread out wide in front of him, golden eyes large and panicked. “I have something important to talk to you about.”

Keith growled something deep and guttural in his throat. Overall, he was the one responsible for letting Lotor get to him—all of this was his own fault—but Lotor was here, and Keith would rather blame him than himself any day. “Oh yeah? What, you here to gloat about winning over Lance you manipulating, psychotic son of a bitch. How did you even find me?”

“Keith, please,” Lotor begged, actually begged. “Say of me what you will, but this is important.”

Keith examined him. For the first time since he’d seen him, Lotor didn’t look perfect, making Keith wonder what had put him his disheveled, manic state in the first place. It brought some comfort to Keith, but not much. “Why should I waste any more of my time with you? You’re a liar. You told Lance that you came here for a fresh start, not because you wanted to be with him.”

“Because I did come here for a fresh start— _Lance_ is my fresh start, for a number of reasons, not just in the manner of which you think. I—Look, I know you hate me—you should, I got in your head, obviously, but please, I need to—”

“Talk? Yeah, no thanks. Besides, don’t you have practice to get to? You and Lance got the parts, right?”

Lotor slammed his palm against the door frame. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Keith! This morning, Coran announced that our show was cancelled. Or rather, we got pulled from the show.”

Keith took a second to comprehend this. Altea… got pulled? “What are you talking about? Why would they do that?”

“They decided to go with another company for a better price.”

“What company?”

The lines on Lotor’s brow deepened, eyes glossing over. “Arlag.” Lotor stepped toward. “Can I come in now?”

“Does Lance know?” Keith asked as he closed the door behind him, hurrying over to the bed to sit.

“No,” Lotor replied. “Coran told the class that the show simply got cancelled, but afterward, he pulled me aside and told me the truth—he knows my history there. Lance’s too, but he thought I would take it better. Arlag, they are going on tour around the states, and given how many shows they’re doing, they can afford to perform at cheaper prices—they must have persuaded the theater we were supposed to perform at to give them our slot.”

“But…. why?”

Lotor paced across the floor. “I… what I suspect is that… they possibly have a grudge against Altea due to Lance’s presence there.”

“Lance’s ‘presence’?”

Lotor stopped, facing Keith with a fierce intensity in his eyes sparked entirely by fear. “That kiss that you two did on stage… it went viral! If I found it, I wouldn’t be surprised if those at Arlag saw it, too. After what Lance did to one of their best dance instructors, ratings for their school went down, costing them thousands. Arlag just got their bearings back, claiming that it was only the one choreographer. Now that they’re back on their feet, I wouldn’t be surprised if, after they saw the video, they started their vendetta for the boy that ruined their reputation, as well as the school he’s attending.

“I spoke more with Coran about this, and he admitted to me that this is why Allura left so suddenly. She was worried this would happen. Allura went to go help choreograph another school to help promote our school and give them a spot for show season in case something like this happened. Because, if Arlag continues on this path, taking our shows for show season, Altea won’t have enough money to keep them afloat for the productions during the holidays, and if they can’t do performances in the holidays, then they’ll be out of money. _Period_.”

And here Keith thought he couldn’t feel any worse about himself. His voice caught in his throat. “So…” He swallowed. “What do we do?”  
Lotor blinked at him. “Isn’t it obviously? We have to take down Arlag, for Lance’s sake.”

Keith scoffed at the assumption that they could even pull such a thing off. “What? Just the two of us? And how do you expect to do that?”

Lotor’s pacing slowed, giving Keith a side-long glance. “That’s… what I came here to talk to you about. I have a plan.”  
Keith scooted forward. “So, spill.”

Slowly, Lotor bent down, resting both his palms on Keith’s knees, eyebrows pulled together in deep consternation. “I’ve been over this again and again, but I could only come up with one solution to take down Arlag for good: The one way to destroy Arlag, the only way, I believe, is to get the dancers to revolt. Without dancers, they can’t put on shows, and without shows, they have no money to further progress the horrors that go on within that school.”

Keith nodded. Of course, that made sense. “Okay, how do we do that?”

Lotor’s mouth began a thin line. “Someone has to go under cover.”

Silence.

Keith stared at Lotor longer than what was probably necessary, but he did so anyway. “You want me to go undercover? But I’m… crippled.” The word tasted foul on his tongue.

“I know it sounds insane,” Lotor went on, pressing his palms harder against his knees. “That’s the beauty of it. You see, in order for this to work, you’d have to send in an audition of your dancing skills to Arlag’s admission office—something from your past performances. By the time they finally processed your acceptance, you’d be healed. You’d be weak, and out of practice, but that’s exactly what they look for. Young, inexperienced dancers they can take advantage off. Except that won’t be you, Keith. Your goal isn’t to be the star of the show, but try and convince the other dancers that they don’t deserve to be treated as they are. All you would have to do is get close with these people, nothing obscene, I promise.

“I know this may seem like a cheap tactic to get you to leave—but I’m begging you, Keith. Lance has been through enough; he doesn’t need his past literally following him around. I’d do this myself, but… well, you know I’d never be accepted back there, not after what I did.”  
At this point, Keith could not—for the life of him—tell if he was lying. If he was, he was a damn good one. Still, the one thing he knew he wasn’t lying about was this, “You really care about Lance.”

Lotor didn’t move, simply nodded. “Yes.”

Keith nodded in return, because at least he understood his reasoning behind all of this. “What would we say? To Lance, I mean? Would I just… disappear?”

Lotor patted his knee, lowering his head. “I’ll keep you updated on him, but… we can’t tell him, Keith. He’d stop you—he’d never go for it. He’s so selfless I’m afraid that he would be the one to suggest to go back, and I… I want him out of this.” Lotor lifted himself onto his feet, but bent down enough to face Keith head on. “I admit, Keith, I did come here for Lance—to protect him, to gain a second chance at what I should have done at Arlag, to… to be with him. I approached you without thinking much of it—waning out the competition has always been my nature, but I see now that you’re just as dedicated to him as he is to you… and… and because of that, I’ll back off. I won’t peruse him.”

Keith arched an eyebrow. “Ever?”

Lotor licked his lips. “Well, at least until you get back.”

For some reason, that brought out a small, pained laugh from Keith. “For Lance, I’ll do it.” He raised his hand. Lotor took it, shaking it.

“For Lance.”

They shook silently, Keith attempting not to panic in the process. The world was falling apart, and instead of running away, he was diving straight into the madness without even looking back. He was leaving Altea, his friends, his family… he was leaving it all, and there was no telling how long it would take to break Arlag from the inside.

_For Lance_ , Keith thought, anchoring himself. _For Lance, for Lance, for Lance…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's the idiot who thought she would have MORE time over the summer for writing instead of less :,D
> 
> ANYWAY I know a lot of you will probs hate the events of what happened in this chapter. I know if I was the reader, I'd hate how things left off with Lance and Keith, but I can assure you things will work out for the best. 
> 
> I wanted to go down this route because I was getting stuck on where the plot was going to go. Can't have a story without conflict, and I needed a story line that would also open up more opportunities for Keith to grow as his own character rather than revolving around Lance. He's been obsessed with Lance for so long that he can't really separate him with ballet anymore--they coincide, and I wanted to sort... break that. Keith going to Arlag is definitely gonna challenge him, and I'm hella excited to introduce new characters and make this world a little bigger. 
> 
> SO again sorry for the wait everyone. Having three jobs hasn't been easy, but I'll try and manage my time a little better. Hope you all have a great day, and as always, thanks for reading! (Comments and criticism is always encouraged. In fact, I live for it.)
> 
>  
> 
> [My trash twitter](https://twitter.com/Renommuss)
> 
>  
> 
> [My trashier tumblr](http://renommus.tumblr.com/)


	12. Arlag

“I can’t believe you’re doing this again,” Shiro muttered as he cut the engine. They sat quietly in their seats, partly because neither of them had anything to say, and partly from the fear of the looming fortress in front of them. The Arlag Dance Company. 

“Yeah,” Keith grumbled, sitting back. “Same.” 

The day after Lotor came to deliver such unnerving news about Arlag, Keith had called Allura to confirm Lotor’s suspicions about the company trying to squeeze Altea for all they were worth, mainly in hopes to see if he was lying.

He wasn’t. 

“Who told you about Arlag?” Allura had asked him, defensive. 

“Lotor,” Keith had answered, cringing at the edge in her tone. So, Lotor was telling the truth. 

Allura went quiet, then, in a hushed tone, “Alright, Keith, you’re not allowed to tell anyone, but… Lotor’s assumption… surely seems to be the case. I didn’t want to believe it, either, but after finding out what company we were replaced with, and after the call I just got informing me that another show of ours has been cancelled—”

“Another one?”

He heard Allura sigh. “I’m going to have to change up the whole show season schedule at this rate. It’s only another month, but without that money, we’ll hardly have enough for holiday shows, and if we don’t have enough for holiday season…” 

Then Altea will be out for good. Keith took this in, finally settling with a decision. “Allura, don’t freak out, but I think I have a plan to stop this.” 

He had told her, and of course she had panicked, but after some thought, she had realized…. What other option did they have?” 

“I…” Allura trailed off, processing. “Keith, it’s a bad idea.”

“I know it is, but… we’re out of options. Besides, I don’t even know if I’ll get in.”

But he had. Like Lotor suggested, he sent in a video of his past performances. While he healed at Shiro’s, growing stronger and stronger each day, he finally got an email back from them a month later. An acceptance email. 

A day later, with his foot fully healed, he started packing.

“You can’t seriously be quitting?” Pidge had asked him the day he came to pack up his room. “All because of Lance?” 

_Oh, you have no idea._ Keith had shrugged, averting his eyes from Pidge’s face as often as he could. “Ballet just… isn’t for me, Pidge. I’m sorry.” 

Pidge let out a sound cross between a snort and disbelieving breath. “You don’t have to apologize to me. You’re the one wasting all that talent.” They crossed their arms, but they looked like they were hugging themselves more than anything. “Well, what are you doing after this?” 

Keith hated lying to Pidge, but he knew if he told them about Arlag, they’d convince him out of it for sure. If anyone could, it’d be Pidge. “Just another school. One back in my old town.”

Pidge tapped their foot. “Will we stay in touch?”

Keith froze. Will they…? He turned to them, a soft smile on his face. “Of course. If you think I’m losing my best friend over this, then you’re not as half as smart as I thought you were.”

Pidge punched him, but a smile soon crossed their face. 

“Ahem…”

Keith’s smile faded as he turned, spotting Lance peering into his room.

Pidge bit their lip, throwing two thumbs toward the door. “I’ll uh, give you guys a moment.”

Keith gulped as Pidge slipped out. He had hardly spoken to Lance in the month that he’d been healing. Just small texts here and there answering if he was okay or not. Anything beside that Keith ignored—he wanted to put as much distance between them as he could before he left for good. If he hadn’t, he knew today would have been ten times as more painful than it already was. 

“So,” Lance started, taking a step inside, “this is it. You’re really leaving?”

Keith lowered his gaze, letting the boxes in his room speak for him. 

Lance shook his head tightly as he took everything in—the boxes, the empty drawers—and let out a shuddered breath. “Keith… if this is because of… us. We…we can work this out. I—”

“This isn’t about us,” Keith rushed to say. “Lance… my future has never been ballet. Not for the long haul. It’s better that I just quit now, try and find what else I’m good at.”

And the worst part? He wasn’t even lying. Not entirely. 

Lance shifted his weight, eyes glossing over. “Well, what about us?” 

Keith should have broken whatever was left between them right there and then—it would have been easier for both of them. But… he couldn’t. At heart, Keith was selfish, and he’d rather shove needles in his eyes than give Lance up entirely. He stretched out his finger, letting it curl around Lance’s. “I’ll keep in touch,” he whispered. “I’ll call whenever I can. We’ll… we’ll work this out.” He shrugged halfheartedly. “Maybe some space will do us some good.” 

“And you’ll visit?”

The hope in his voice almost broke him. New York was miles from here—how often was he going to get a chance to slip away? Still, Keith nodded. “Y—yeah. For sure.” 

Lance nodded, then, reluctantly, let his hand fall away from Keith. “Well… guess I’ll see you later, Mullet.” 

Now, in Shiro’s car, those words echoed in Keith’s head as he gawked up at Arlag. It looked more like a cathedral than anything. A dark, gloomy cathedral with a tint of darkened purple overlaying the dark bricks of the building. Gargoyles bordered the staircase, and an iron gate was placed all around the perimeter. Like a prison. 

Keith took a quick photo of the place, sending it to Lotor. _Is this a ballet company or background setting for phantom of the opera?_

Lotor texted back immediately. _Neither, it’s hell._

Keith shook his head, and before asking himself what he’d gotten himself into, he pushed himself out of the car to grab his dance bag from the trunk. He headed for the steps just as Shiro fell into step with him. Keith paused. “Uh, what are you doing?”

Shiro locked the car behind him. “Going in with you. Just because I agreed to let you do this doesn’t mean I’m not going to scope out the place before I go.” 

They entered through the large, looming double doors into an oval corridor lit by sparkling chandeliers. Through the map Keith printed out, he and Shiro headed through the archway to their right toward the dorms. 

“You sure about this?” Shiro asked as they walked down the low-lit hall. “I mean, I know I can’t stop you, but… are you sure this is a good idea?”

Keith almost laughed. “No, but I really don’t see what else we can do.”

“Do you have any idea how long you’ll be staying here?”

Keith shrugged. “No idea. I know I have to stay long enough to make sure that they don’t steal any more shows for show season. Which ends in July… so…”

Eventually, they got to room 406. Keith’s dorm. They opened the door. Keith half expected to find a well-seasoned, hard-pressed dancer in his wake. Instead, he got a boy that looked no older than the age of fifteen.

“Hi there!” he greeted, rushing over from his open luggage to take Keith’s hands in his. He was small, not as small as Pidge, but small. He had deep, rich dark brown skin and curly dark locks that dangled over his eyes, eyes that were bright and eager and warm. Just like Keith, he was new, but unlike Keith, he obviously hadn’t heard the tales of this place, nor have been around long enough to be affected by them. “I’m Jamie! Are you my new roommate?” 

Keith practically had to pry his hand away from his grasp. “Uh, yeah. Name’s Keith.”

Shiro extended a hand. “I’m Shiro, Keith’s brother.”

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you both!” 

Shiro nodded wordlessly, taking a second to pull Keith aside. “Alright, now that I know your roommate isn’t some psychopath, I’m going to head out. Keep me updated. Text me every day, and if you think for a second you might be over your head, call me and I’ll come get you. We’ll figure something else out if we have to.”

Keith nodded, pulling him into a hug before saying goodbye. When he was gone, he started to unpack. “So…” Jamie began as he sat crisscross on his bed, bouncing slightly. “What ballet school did you come from?”

“Altea.”

“Altea? Wow! I’ve heard a lot of good things about that place. I came from a small dance studio in Ohio. Our class size was like, six. All girls, expect for me. I never thought any company would want me, let along Arlag!”

Keith paused. “Jamie… you’ve obviously heard of Arlag before. Have you heard of the scandal associated with this school, then?”

Jamie cocked his head. “Scandal?”

So, he didn’t know. 

“Oh! You mean that thing about the teacher? Yeah, I heard about that. But I mean, what ballet company doesn’t have some past drama? I came from a group home filled with ten kids—all bigger than me. Trust me, I would have gone anywhere if it got me out of there.”

A… group home? Keith turned back to him, taking in his innocent, wide-eyed expression. This kid had been put through the system, just like Keith. But unlike himself, he never found a family. Sure, his parents took him under the promise that they would get paid for taking care of him, but at least he got Shiro. Jamie came from nothing, and would probably be more than willing to do anything for him to stay in a school he thought would do well for his dance career. Keith bit his lip, vowing to himself that, no matter what, he’d make sure he stayed safe. 

Practice was scheduled later that day. Fortunately, Keith and Jamie were scheduled in the same class. When the time came, Keith stood next to Jamie at the bar, glaring at anyone who glared at him first. These dancers were stronger, leaner, and looked as though had years of experience. 

_Focus, Keith, they’re victims, too._

The comforting part about relocating to a completely different ballet studio was that all ballet studios looked the same. There were mirrors, and there were bars. What more did you need?

“Alright everyone, places,” a gruff, deep voice announced. Everyone snapped to attention as a man who was built bigger than almost the door frame itself came waltzing in. He stood at the front of the room with his hands behind his back, gaze lethal. “For those who don’t know me, I am Kolivan. I will be your dance instructor for the remainder of this year. I—”

The sound of the door opening behind him cut him off. Behind him, two boys walked in, one looking supremely guilty and nervous, the other just bored. The guilty one had neat, trimmed dark hair, while the non-guilty one had a small, blond mohawk and sharp eyes. If he had to guess, Keith would say they were both about his age. 

“Thace, Ulaz,” Kolivan snapped, making the dark haired one flinch. “Second warning. There won’t be a third. Bar, now.”

“Thank, Ulaz,” the dark haired one—Thace—muttered to his friend as they got to the bar behind Keith. 

“Now that we don’t have any more distractions,” Kolivan said. “I’d like to address the upcoming routine. We’ll be performing the next show at the Bevor Theater in North Carolina.”

Keith clenched his jaw. Yeah, the arena where Altea was supposed to be performing.

“Newbies, just follow my lead.” Kolivan demonstrated the routine. Keith would be in the back for most of the time, so it wouldn’t be hard to remember his role. 

“Practice that. And remember: tonight, we’ll be having our annual gala to try and… _attract_ sponsors for our recitals.”

Keith froze. 

Kolivan cleared his throat. “But, under any circumstance, should you feel pressured to—”

Suddenly, a woman opened the studio door. She was a frail thing. An old woman with white hair. Every seemed to stop cold. “Hello, everyone,” she said, the smile she wore failing to meet her eyes. 

Kolivan cleared his throat. “Headmaster Haggar, can I help you with anything?”

That’s the headmaster? No wonder everyone tensed. The air seemed to crackle between Kolivan and Headmaster Haggar. She squinted at him, that cold smile never leaving her face. “I just wanted to remind students that gaining sponsors is necessary for keeping this school alive. If one doesn’t do everything in their power to gain sponsors, your role here at Arlag… could be compromised.” She regarded everyone knowingly. “That is all.”

Keith’s jaw clenched as he watched the Headmaster strut away. So things really were the same. 

“Uh, Keith?” Jamie asked, tugging his shirt sleeve. “What does she mean by that? Does she mean… if I don’t gain sponsors, I could lose my place here?” The horror that rippled through him caused a crack to form in Keith’s heart, and what he said next just about broke it. “What do I have to do to get sponsors?” There was a fierce determination in his eyes, something Keith couldn’t help but draw back from. “I’ll do whatever. I just can’t be kicked out, Keith.”

Keith swallowed. Hard. He bit his lip, then took a quick look around to make sure no one was listening. “Listen, just stick by me tonight, alright? I promise you’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

He wouldn’t break it to him here. Not yet. He couldn’t bare being the one to ruin his dream. But… sooner or later, he had to realize this place wasn’t his dream. It was a nightmare. Still, he’d protect him as long as he could. He meant it when he said he would be fine. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. Not if he had anything to do with it.

After practice, they headed back to their rooms to shower and change. Change into what? Oh, well the two newly pressed suits that they left for them. Geesh, the look on Jamie’s face when he found it on his bed… 

“I’ve never owned anything this nice before!”

 _Yeah, well, same here._ But he was sure that the purpose of giving them these suits wasn’t as a heartfelt gift. It wasn’t for them, but the sponsors. It was if they were gifts, and these suits were the wrapping paper. 

The gala itself was exquisite. It was being held in the main foyer. Everything… glittered. The tableware, the table cloth, the chandeliers. It was starting to hurt Keith’s eyes. Jamie gasped and awed. Everyone, like them, was dressed to perfection, and everyone, beside the dancers, was older, middle age, women and men with sly eyes and crooked smiles. Keith stepped closer to Jamie. “Like I said, just stick by my side, okay?”

In the middle of the room, the Headmaster raised a glass and clinked her knife against it. “Hello, everyone! It’s an honor to have you all here today. As you know, we have a few new students tonight, so let’s give a welcoming applause for our new addition to Arlag.” 

Slow claps surfaced from the crowd. Keith glared.

“We are all so grateful for your continuous support of the arts, and tonight, we hope that we’ll… convince you to be as generous as you have been to be funding our shows. As usual, dinner will be served in an hour. Until then… enjoy.”

And just like that, everyone dispersed. The patrons pounced to the nearest student they saw. Almost instantly, they were led out of the room, causing a sickening lurch of Keith’s stomach. The boys he saw earlier, Thace and Ulaz, seemed to know exactly what they were doing, walking right up to a set of patrons that seemed to know them quite well. Not long after that, they were leading them down the hall.

“Wow, that was quick,” Jamie said. “So, um… how do we…”

“We don’t,” Keith interrupted. Ugh, he had no choice. “Look, Jamie, this… this whole thing; it’s not what you think.”

Just then, a man in a finely pressed coat and tie sauntered up. He eyed Jamie. “Well, hello young man.” 

A surge of protectiveness came over Keith. Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed a glass of champagne from a tray nearby and “accidentally” spilled it over Jamie’s tux. “Oh! Man, sorry, buddy. How about you we go to the bathroom and clean up, yeah?”

He dragged Jamie toward it, practically shoving him through the bathroom doors. Jamie turned to him, bewildered. “Keith! What are you—?”

Keith dragged his shoulders, digging his fingers in. He knew he looked mad, but he needed to get his point across. “Jamie, listen to me. This place… it’s not what you think, alright? Arlag isn’t right for you. These are not good people. You need to pack your things, and go home? Understand?”

Jamie shook his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why is this place so bad?”

Keith opened his mouth, but the words died on his tongue. “Just… I’ll tell you later. For now, stay here.” He rushed out, slamming the bathroom door behind him. For extra precaution, he grabbed a nearby side table and placed it under the door handle, blocking him in.

Keith found himself wandering back… then stopped. What was he doing? He couldn’t go back in there! Otherwise he’d be pounced on. But if he didn’t… do what they wanted, he’d be kicked out. Then where did that leave him? This whole plan would be for nothing, then Lance… No, it was more about Lance now. People like Jamie would be left exposed to the horrors of this place! But what could he do? Even if he didn’t get kicked out, what would he do to take this place down?

A tentative finger brushing his shoulder jerked him from his thoughts. He glanced back to see the man who’d approached Jamie. “Excuse me, young man, if I could just take a moment of your time to—”

Keith snapped. Growling, he grabbed the man by his collar and slammed him up against the wall. “How the hell can you go through with all of this? What kind of sicko decides to take advantage of kids who just want to dance? Who think they made it? How can you—?” 

Rough hands grappled at his arms, tugging him backwards. “Whoa, whoa! Cool it, dude!”

He was tossed backward. After catching himself from falling on his ass, he glanced up to see Thace and Ulaz. They were whispering to the man. After a moment, he nodded. He walked right past them without uttering a word, right back to the gala. When he was gone, they stared at him. Hard. “What’s your name?” Ulaz asked, arms crossed.

Keith eyed him. “Keith.”

Thace glanced nervously between the three. “Keith, you’re new… so how do you know about what… goes on here?”

Keith huffed. “I had friends who went through the same thing.”

Ulaz raised an eyebrow. “And you came here knowing that?”

Keith straightened. “I told them I’d do what it took to try and bring this place down, and yes, even if that means putting an end to your dance careers here.” He threw his hands up into the air. “How can you both live like this? Aren’t you tired?” 

Ulaz and Thace raised their eyebrows, then looked at each other. “Keith, we don’t do what you think we do. Look, Kolivan, our teacher? He assigns us patrons that give us money despite not sleeping with them. That’s how we’re staying in the program. That man you saw? He’s one of ours. He was trying to get to the newbies before the real sharks could.” Ulaz stepped closer, lowering his voice. “We’re on the same side, Keith.”

“We’ve been looking for a way to take them down for about a year,” Thace continued. “And we haven’t found a good way to do it yet. We need more time.” 

Keith shook his head. “Okay, well, my old school might not have time. I’m from Altea Dance Academy, and while my main goal is to take down Arlag, I also have to keep Altea afloat. Arlag has been going around stealing shows from my school for a while. If Altea can’t find other shows to replace those with, then they won’t have enough money for their holiday season later this year. If that happens, then they’re out of business. For good. I can’t let that happen. I need to find a way to cancel the tour.”

Thace and Ulaz tensed. “Look, while we appreciate your motivation, we can’t be a part of that right now,” Thace admitted. “We’ve already invested too much into making sure we keep a low profile to find a way to take down Arlag for good, not to keep a school we don’t care about running. I hope you understand, but you’re on your own for that one.” 

Keith nodded. He understood, they had a bigger goal. He needed to do this alone. 

But how?

Just then, a man in a chef uniform walked out from a room billowing out steam from across the hall. He went into a small closet next to it, carrying out a bucket and mop. Just the door shut behind him, he caught sight of a box of rat poison before the man in the chef’s uniform retreated into the kitchen.

“Hey, when’s our next show again? For the tour?” Keith asked.

Ulaz clucked his tongue. “Tomorrow. Why?”

“And what exactly are we serving for dinner?”

“Um.” Thace scratched his nose. “Soup? I think.”

Keith grinned. “Good.” 

 

Lotor couldn’t believe his eyes. Even after all these months, he was still amazed. 

It had been in the news—nothing too big, but big enough to gather a bit of attention when it first came out. He’d been grabbed by the title: _Dance company from New York loses its lunch on stage._

He read on of course, eyes growing wide as he read just what school had done so. Arlag. 

He’d gotten a text from Keith seconds later: _Altea’s safe for now._

 _How’d you do it?_ Lotor had texted.

_Keith: Nothing much. Just a small dose of rat poison._

He didn’t have to expound. Lotor had sat back, relieved. Well, one problem had been resolved. After that bit, he was sure that the shows Arlag had booked for their tour had cut them, afraid that they’d pull that sort of thing on their stage, as well. 

Lotor hated admitting it, but he was impressed with Keith’s moxy. 

Months had passed since then. August had arrived, and with show season now over, it was time to start getting ready to rehearse for their holiday performances. In his room, Lotor was tying his hair up when his phone started to vibrate. He glanced at it. Keith. He put him on speakerphone. “How’s it going, double O seven?”  
He could practically hear him roll his eyes before he spoke. “Depressing. Altea might be safe, but for how long? How long will it be before they try something again? I have no idea how to take on Arlag, and the people here who are trying to do the same thing are just as clueless on where to start as we are. Lotor, it’s getting really bad over here. Your plan to ‘make the dancers revolt’ isn’t going to work. They’ve tried. There are too many who have been here for way too long, and they’ve grown to just… accept things. The last thing they want to do is rock the boat. Now we’re nowhere near ready to take them head on. I may not be caught up in this whole thing, but there are way too many kids here that are, and, well, it’s hard to watch.”

A hot wave of anger crashed into Lotor. “Yeah, well try living it, Keith. Figure it out.”

He hung up, almost immediately regretting it. Almost. There was a small part of him that was glad he did so; it felt good. But… he was the one to suggest to Keith to go there in the first place. Reluctantly, he texted Keith back: Sorry. We’ll figure something out later. Off to practice.

Practice, as usual, was uneventful. Allura was back, eyeing him every five seconds. She knew that he was the one who pushed Keith to attend Arlag—she hadn’t said anything, but he was sure she wasn’t happy with him. Coran still hung around, assisting Allura when need be. Everything, for the most part, had returned to normal… 

Except for Lance.

After practice, Lotor stretched by his side. To the untrained eye, Lance seemed back to his normal self. He smiled, laughed, and pretended like everything was just fine. But it wasn’t, not for him. He missed Keith. Lotor knew it, and it broke him knowing he wasn’t enough for him. 

He knew he told Keith he wouldn’t try anything with Lance… but, secretly, he was hoping that, maybe, with Keith being gone… Lance would try something with him. 

But he hadn’t. 

“Hey, Lance!” Pidge bounced over, taking a seat next to him. “You want to come with me and hunk to Shay’s tonight?”

“Ah, sorry, Pidge,” Lance said, flashing them his most casual smile. “Mom wants me home early tonight to help with dinner. Next time?”

Pidge nodded. “Oh, sure man. Next time.” Pidge stood and walked off, throwing a worried glance Lotor’s way. He wasn’t the only one that noticed how Lance continued to make excuses to get out of plans. The only time Lotor saw Lance outside of class was when they walked home together. His apartment was on the way to Lance’s house, so he was sure to walk as slow as possible to extend their time together.

“—and I said to him, dude, it’s a pun! It’s supposed to be cringey!” Lance shook his head, scoffing. On these walks, he did most of the talking. Lotor didn’t mind. He preferred it. It made him think that Lance was actually okay.

That is, until Lotor invited him inside. 

“You sure you don’t want to stay for a while?” Lotor asked as they approached the entrance to his building.

Lance paused, then shook his head. “No, that’s okay. Like I said, my mom—”

“Lance,” Lotor interrupted softly. “I know you’re hurting. I know you miss him… but if you’re going to wallow, you shouldn’t do it alone.”

And he meant it. Did he have an ulterior motive? No. Not at heart. At the end of the day, he cared for Lance, and wanted nothing more than to make sure he was okay. Besides, it’s not like he was going to accept his offer—

“Okay,” Lance murmured, voice growing stronger as he rolled his shoulders back. “Yeah, okay, I can stay for a little while.”

Inside, Lotor opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “You want anything?” he asked as Lance put down his dance bag. “I have water, soda—”

Lance peeked over his shoulder. “Is that bottle of vodka off limits?”

Lotor tensed. Lance and alcohol was never a good mix. But… he had been down lately. One drink wouldn’t hurt him. He’d cut him off after that.

Er… Well, he thought he would.

Turned out Lance could tip back five shots of vodka before Lotor could even reach for the bottle. “He just left!” Lance slurred, causing a hiccup to follow. “I mean, I get that ballet wasn’t his thing… but he hasn’t called or texted in, in weeks! And he’s the one who got all jealous! He’s the one who…” He let the sentence trail off. He pouted and rested his head on the couch, sighing. “I don’t get where things went wrong.”

Lotor propped his elbow on top of the couch, letting his cheek rest on his fist. He knew he should feel guilty, but it wasn’t his fault that Keith was the one who went off the rails. He should have handled the situation better. He was the one who screwed things up between them, not him. 

_It’s still your fault._

Lotor clenched his jaw. 

“I miss him,” Lance admitted. 

Lotor sighed. “I know.”

Lance stared down at his empty shot. “I dunno… maybe it’s time to move on. He did just ghost me.”

A dark hope bloomed in Lotor’s chest. His heart raced faster in his chest, making blood pound in his ears. Lance glanced at him, cheeks flushed, eyes half lidded. He moved closer—Lotor held his breath as Lance leaned in. He closed his eyes, lips puckering, those beautiful, soft lips Lotor had been yearning to kiss for months. But… this was wrong. 

This was wrong.

Just before Lance could press his lips to Lotor’s, Lotor said, defeated, “He’s at Arlag.”

Lance froze. 

Lance sat back, his drunken haze clearing. “He’s… what?”

Lotor admitted everything then. He didn’t know why, but he did. He let it all slip out, wincing at the horror that struck Lance after explaining it all. After he was done, as expected, Lance exploded from his seat, completely sober. “Why would you ask him to do that?!” he demanded.

Lotor just looked at him. That’s all it took for understanding of his feelings for him to settle onto Lance’s face. His rage melted away to something doleful. “Oh, Lotor…” 

Lotor handed him his phone. “Call him from mine. He’ll pick up.” 

Lance hesitated, so Lotor pushed it into hand. “Call him.”

He headed to his room before Lance could say anything. He knew he did the right thing, but that didn’t mean he felt good about it. 

 

“Ugh!” Keith kicked his side table, immediately regretting it as a sharp pain shoot up his toe.

“You okay there?” Jamie asked as he squeezed his pillow to his chest.

Keith sighed and took a seat at the edge of his bed. He rubbed his foot. “No. No! I’m sick of this place. Aren’t you?”

Jamie shrugged. “It’s better than my group home, that’s for sure. But then again, that’s because I have a sponsor who doesn’t want my ass.”

Keith closed his eyes. For hours, for months, they’d been trying to come up with ideas for how to take down Arlag, to save these kids from this life of misery, and still, they had nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

Ulaz and Thace walked in a moment later, a pizza box in their hands. Ulaz threw it open and took a slice. “Still nothing?”  
Keith ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Doesn’t Kolivan have anything to say about this?”

Thace grabbed a seat next to Jamie. Ulaz handed him a slice and scooched close to him. “He’s doing all he can, Keith.”

“Well, it’s not enough! I—” Keith’s phone rang. Lotor. Great. He answered it. “What, Lotor?”

Silence on the other end. Then, finally, “Keith… it’s Lance.”

Keith’s lungs suddenly deprived of oxygen. Of course it was Lance—he knew the moment he said his name. His eyes darted to the boys. “Um, wait a second.” He stepped outside, closing the door softy behind him. “Lance? You still there?”

“Are you safe?” was his immediate response. Keith’s heart jumped.

“S—safe? What do you mea—”

“I know you’re at Arlag."

There was a small amount of relief that went through Keith knowing he didn’t have to hide himself from Lance anymore, but how did he find out? “Lance, how—”

“Lotor told me. He told me everything.”

Lotor? But why would he do that? Wasn’t he the one who told him they couldn’t tell Lance? 

“Is this why you’ve been pushing me away?” Lance asked so quietly he almost missed it. “Why we haven’t talked in weeks?” 

Keith’s mouth went dry. And just like that, he let all of what he’d been compressing out into the open, unable to hold it anymore. “Yes. I couldn’t involve you in this, Lance. And I knew if I told you, you’d do everything to stop me. And I probably would have listened. At first, I was doing this all for you. But… coming here, I realize now that there’s so many more kids that I need to try and help. Lance… this place…”

Lance let out a shuddered breath from the other end. “Well… have you come up with any ideas?”

Lance was taking this remarkably well. Keith cleared his throat, deciding to go with it. “Um, no, none so far. Lotor’s original plan was to get the dancers to revolt, but…”

“That’s not going to work,” Lance finished for him. 

“Right. But Lotor was right about one thing. This school runs on dancers, and without them, it would crumple. But there’s no way that any of these people are going to leave.”

Again, silence. Until Lance said, “The only way any of them are going to leave is if we offer them something better.”

“Something better?”

“Yes. Like an invitation to a new dance company. A better dance company.” 

A… dance company? “Lance, what are you talking about? What company? You really think if any of these kids got accepted somewhere else, they’d still be in Arlag? A lot of them are still amateurs. Others are just… used to this place. Know the system.” 

“You’re right. Most of the kids are amateurs—that’s why Arlag takes them in. Because no other company will, and once they get paid to dance, it takes a lot of strength to move backwards. That’s why they don’t. But if we were to get a company, a good company, with good teachers, to accept them, they’d leave that place.  
And once one of them leaves, the rest will follow.”

“Lance, what company?”

“The Altea Dance Company.”

Keith heart nearly stopped. “You want to… create a dance company? But… how? I have no idea where we would even start. Do you?” 

He could hear the smile on his face as he spoke. “No, but I know someone who might.” 

 

“You want to _what_?” 

Behind her desk, Allura stared at Lance as if he’d lost his mind. Which he had, but still. “Lance… do you know how much money that would cost? Not to mention we don’t even have a facility! That or dancers.”

“I can get you dancers,” Lance said confidently as he drummed his fingers against Allura’s desk. “Look, I know you know Keith is at Arlag, and I know you want him back just as much as I do. But if we can manage to send out acceptance letters to all of the dancers at Arlag, welcoming them to our new company, we can make it a great place for them, a place that not only you’d teach at, but run.”

Allura shook her head in defiance, but the glint in her eye gave way to how much she wanted this. “Lance, like I said, I don’t have the money!”

“I think I can help with that.” 

Lance turned, seeing Lotor by the door. A hot flush of shame came over him. He still couldn’t believe he tried to… to use him last night. He was drunk, and sad, and lonely, and Lotor was… there. Still, he was grateful that he stopped him before he could go through with it. Knowing what he knew now about Keith, his Keith, that there was still hope for them, that he hadn’t forgotten about him… he knew he would have regretted it.

And knowing what he knew about Lotor’s feelings for him, it must have taken a crazy amount of strength to push him away. He deserved someone better, someone who loved him for him. But, after last night, he was sure he’d come to terms with that fact, too. 

“How?” Allura asked him, rising from her desk and crossing her arms as she turned to face him.

Lotor mimicked her stance. “My father.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. This was the first time he’d ever heard of Lotor’s family. “Your father?”

“We’re an affluent bunch. He’s not one to involve himself with dance—he barely batted an eye at the scandal we were a part of. But, if we can convince him that this company of ours will be a good business deal, I can get him to sponsor it. All we would need is a location.”

“Well, where are we going to find such a facility?” Allura sked them. “An empty, open facility that we could construct to hold dorms and a cafeteria and dance space?” 

A thought dawned on Lance. He had an idea, a crazy idea, but it’d be so perfect if it worked. He started for the door. “Come on. I might know a place.”

 

Four months had passed. Four. Months. And Keith still couldn’t believe what he held in his hands: a formal acceptance letter from The Altea Company of Dance and Astronomy. 

“We’re managed to coexist with the planetarium in your town,” Lance had told him a few months back. “The building itself is huge. The have so many rooms for storage it’s insane! I saw so the last time you took me. We asked if we could convert them to dance studios. In exchange, we get to perform there to bring in more money for them! Lotor’s dad is paying for the add on for the dorms. In just a few months, we’ll have an actual dance company Keith! Allura also said that she’s looked at past performances of the dancers at Arlag and, with a little proper training, will be fantastic additions to the company. You’ll be getting a box of acceptance letters to hand out to every dancer in Arlag in the next couple of months, so keep an eye out!”

And here we they. Keith read the letter:

_Dear fellow dancer,_

_Greetings from the Altea Company of Dance and Astronomy. We are a new company that are eagerly seeking dancers to join us, and upon further investigation on your past performances in the theater, you are hereby officially accepted. If you have any questions regarding the matter, feel free to give our office a call and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible._

_Best wishes, Headmaster Allura_

Keith had to take a moment. He did it. Lance did it.

Jamie walked into the room a second later. He stopped as soon as he saw Keith, box in hand. “Is that…?”

A grin spread across Keith’s face. “Let’s go pass these out.”

Both boys exploded into their class. Each took a handful of letters and started passing each out. 

“What are these?” Ulaz asked. 

“Open and it and find out!”

They did so. Keith expected tears of joy, but all he got was confused stares. No one spoke, no one even moved from their stretching spot on the floor. “What is this exactly?” someone asked.

“They’re acceptance letters to a new dance company!” Keith explained, bursting with joy. “Guys, there for all of us. I’ve been speaking to the headmaster of this place and she says she’s reviewed all of your guys’ dance abilities and she wants you to dance for her! All of you will be paid to dance, and you won’t have to fucking sell yourself to keep your spot! Isn’t that what you all want?”

Everyone was silent. 

“I’m going,” Jamie whispered, drawing everyone’s attention. He gulped at being noticed, but tried speaking a little louder as their eyes stayed on him. “I became a dancer to dance. I should be worrying about injuries, not…” He trailed off, but everyone got the picture. 

“Guys, please, you can’t keep living like this,” Keith went on. “This school… it may be new, but I know it’ll be great. We have a chance to make it great. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to be a part of something good? Of something safe?”

Keith had been sure he’d galvanized them. Their faces, usually devoid of emotion, suddenly had buds of hope blossom across them. One of the dancers in front, a girl with a long face and a caramel colored bun, was just about to open her mouth when Headmaster Haggar walked in. 

Everyone gasped and scrambled to hid their letters, but she grabbed the one from Keith’s hands with surprise deftness. “Oh? What’s this?” She skimmed the letter, a cruel smiling splitting her face. “You all got accepted? How wonderful. Truly, what a remarkable thing. It’ll be great to see you perform there.” She threw the letter back at Keith. “In five years.”

Her tone sent chills to radiate from his spine. He managed a weak, “What?”

It was then that tiny Headmaster Haggar seemed taller and larger than all of them, looking down at them with her nose held high. “All of you are all under a five-year contract. Maybe if you all had read the fine print in your acceptance letters, then maybe you would have known.”

Fine print? What fine print? Keith tried recalling it, but he didn’t even think he read past, “You are officially accepted” part. 

_Oh god._

Haggard seemed to gain fuel from the dancers’ sudden realization. “As I said, it’ll be a pleasure seeing you perform at Altea when the times comes. Hopefully by then it’ll still be up and running, considering it won’t have any dancer anytime soon.” She turned toward the door, but stopped, and cranked her head back to add, “Oh, and by the way, you all have a gala tonight. Make sure to rest up before then. Tonight’s one will run long.”

She left the room, leaving them all empty and cold. By the time Kolivan came in, they were all sitting on the floor, head in hands. Kolivan froze once turning to them. “Um…?”

Keith raised the letter, head hung. Kolivan took it and read, realization dawning on him. “Haggar came to talk to you all, didn’t she?”

They all nodded.

“What do we do?” Thace asked him, tears brimming his eyes. “Can we even do anything?”

Kolivan pinched the brim of his nose and sat back on a stool. “You can all leave. The contract prevents you from dancing with any other company. That doesn’t mean you can’t leave this one, though.”

“Not dancing, for five more years?” someone cried. “I’d rather just stay here!”

A lot of murmurs of agreement followed that statement, and a flare of fury shot through Keith. “No! Kolivan, you’re telling me there’s nothing we can do to get out of our contracts?”

He held up his hands in defeat. “Unless you all want to fight and admit you’ve all been forced to…” The dancers turned their heads away, giving him his answer. “Then, no. The only other way to get them out of their contracts is if Arlag is suddenly claimed unfit to be a dance company, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

Unfit… Keith sat back. Unfit… what did that mean? He wanted to ask Kolivan, but he pushed them along to start practice not long after. 

Once done, Jamie and Keith went back to their dorms, where their suits were waiting for them. Jamie, sluggishly, put his on, but Keith couldn’t stand to. He wanted to rip it apart. So, that’s exactly what he did.

“Whoa, Keith!” Jamie tried to stop him, but it was already in shreds. Jamie stepped back. “Keith…”

He threw the shreds down, breathing hard. “I’m fine. Fine… Just… you go on ahead. I’ll be there in a second.”

Jamie didn’t point out that he didn’t have a suit to attend the gala with, but he went on anyway. Keith paced, and paced, and paced. He spent hours in his room, just coiled in rage. He knew if we even saw a potential sponsor, he would hurt them. He wanted to hurt all of them, but most of all, he wanted to hurt Haggard. Or at least give her a piece of his mind. Yeah, that’s what he’d do. He didn’t care about being kicked out anymore. Screw it. It was over.

He stalked off toward the gala, passing the kitchen as he did so. He stopped, glancing inside. It was completely empty. The staff must have served dinner and went on their way for the night… Huh. Slowly, Keith slipped inside. It was a magnificent kitchen. It had a large sleek silver fridge, a display of kitchen equipment, such as whisks, a candle lighter… knives… and ovens. A whole wall of them, even.

Keith drummed his fingers against the ovens, then back at the exit. Unfit to be a company, huh? 

_Stop. This is probably the stupidest idea you’ve ever had._

Sure, but at this point, did he even care?

That answer was no. 

Keith stepped outside the kitchen, pulling the fire alarm he’d passed on the way in. He hurried back into the kitchen and turned the gas on for all of the ovens. He covered his mouth, waiting. He waited about five minutes before he assumed everyone had made it out of the building, even hurrying back into the gala to ensure that it was empty. When it was, he went back to the kitchen and grabbed the candle lighter. He swallowed hard, then lit it up and threw it toward the ovens. 

He ran as fast and hard as he could, managing to make it past the kitchen doors. But that’s all he remembered before everything went black, the smell of charred flesh storming up his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> askjfs so to explain why this took so long, I got a mastectomy last month and am just now getting back into the swing of things. But, to be perfectly honest, it's not like I haven't been writing--I've been working on my book in small bursts each day for a while now, but with this fic, I was stumped on how I wanted things to go for AWHILE. And it started to feel like a chore. So I took a step back, tried to come up with new ideas and new paths, then finally said screw it and sat down and became determined to finish it. WHICH I DID. This will be the second to last chapter. The last chapter will come out before the new season of Voltron, so steel yourself for it. 
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> Honestly the only reason I decided to finish this in the first place has been because of you amazing readers, so thank you for pushing me and encouraging me throughout all this. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
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> (P.S. Sorry for all the typos)
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> [My trash twitter](https://twitter.com/Renommuss)
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> [My trashier tumblr](http://renommus.tumblr.com/)


	13. His Nutcracker

The sound of beeping woke Keith.

 _God, that’s so annoying_ , he thought, moving his arm to swat away his buzzer. Then he winced, pain lancing up his body as he tried to move. What was wrong with him? And was that even his buzzer? It sounded different….

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, concerned it was taking more effort than it should have. But, like he assumed, he wasn’t in his dorm. He was in the… hospital?

Someone gasped beside him. “Keith?”

He turned his head, and Keith had never been more grateful to see Lance in his life. 

He looked awful. His hair, usually brushed perfectly in place, was matted to the side of his head, as though he’d been lying on it for too long. Dark circles rung around his eyes, and his skin was ashen. Still, he was the most beautiful thing Keith had ever seen.

“Lance…” He reached a hand out, and Lance took it, entwining their fingers. It was then that Keith realized the whole of his arms were wrapped in white cloth. “What…” he cleared his throat. “What happened?”

Lance looked grave, but at the same time, a wave of relief had washed over him. “There was an explosion. It’s a miracle you’re alive. Half of the building had burned down before they finally found you. You have a lot of burns, and it’s going to take you some time to heal, but”—he swallowed back tears—“but you’re going to be okay.”

 _Half the building burned down._ Despite himself, Keith smiled. “Does that mean… that Arlag’s done? Are the kids free to go to Altea?”

Lance went quiet. Too quiet. He was piecing together the pieces, and Keith barred himself for the blow as he finally put the last one in place. “Keith… did you…?”

“Just answer me, Lance.”

Fury flashed across his face as he came to the conclusion. “Keith, you idiot!” He gripped his hand harder. “You could have… you could have—!”

“Lance, please,” Keith whispered. “Is Arlag done?”

Tears beaded in his eyes, but, thankful, a smile soon broke the anger splaying across his face. He brought Keith’s hand up and nuzzled it. “Yes, you lucky bastard. Arlag is done. Allura told me the dancers already called her and agreed to join her company. _All_ of them.” 

_Oh thank god._

He squeezed Lance’s hand. “Now that I think about it,” Lance said, wiping a tear away. “They even covered for you about the fire. They told the fire department and the police that you were at the gala, but ran back in to make sure that everyone was out. Haggard couldn’t disagree, but she herself wasn’t certain that you even attended at all. You’re in the clear.”

Keith hadn’t been that concerned about getting caught, but was relieved to know his only punishment for doing something so reckless was the burns. 

“You shouldn’t have done it,” Lance whispered, using both of his hands to grasp Keith’s. “I thought…” 

“I’m sorry,” Keith said. “I’m sorry for… everything. For not telling you about Arlag, for pushing you away, for… for freaking out about you and Lotor. Looking back, I was so panicked about losing you, I did all I could to make sure you stayed _mine_. You were all I wanted for so long that the thought of losing you consumed me. So, like I said, I’m sorry.” He grazed his thumb across Lance’s hand, waiting for him to reply. 

Lance’s face fell. “Keith… there’s something I need to tell you.” He took a deep breath. “I… I tried to kiss Lotor.” Before Keith could respond, Lance rushed to get the words out. “I was upset and drunk and I missed you and was so mad at you because I thought you were blowing me off so I figured I should try to move on, but… that’s when he stopped me and told me where you were and I immediately regretted everything and just—”

“Lance,” Keith cut off. “It’s okay.” He brought his other hand over and placed it on top of Lance’s. “Really.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Keith nodded. “Yes.” And it was. These months of being on his own, he realized there were bigger things to worry about than if Lance was staying loyal to him, even though they weren’t even together. Not officially. This past months of being in Arlag had given him perspective. Made him stronger. He had learned he could stand on his own two feet, _without_ Lance. 

But that didn’t mean he wanted to.

“Can we start over?” Keith asked him.

The smile on Lance’s face made Keith’s heart almost explode. “I would like that.” He scooched closer. “When you’re all healed, we’re going to do great things at Altea, Keith.”

Ah, and there was the rub. Keith lowered his head. “Lance, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to Altea to dance.”

Lance froze.

“As much as I love it, it’s not something I want to do as a career. I love ballet, I really do, but I don’t love it enough to stay with it.”

Lance’s hands fell from his. “Oh.” He lowered his gaze. “Well… what are you going to do? And… will we still be able to stay together?” 

Keith’s grinned stretched wide across his face. “Oh, I’m sure.”

 

Time healed all wounds, and that included his burns.

Months had passed, and it was now the middle of December. Keith had finally finished his last burn session treatment at the hospital, and tonight, Shiro drove them to The Altea Company for their first performance of The Nutcracker and The Mouse King. 

“You excited?” Shiro asked him as he put the car in park. 

Keith glanced out the window at the company; it was giant. Bigger than Arlag even. “I’ve never been _more_ excited.” 

They headed into the theater, but Keith made a quick detour before making his way backstage to greet Lance. He found him just about to get his costume. “Lance!”

Lance turned to him, eyes brightening. “Hey!” He hurried over and kissed him. “You made it!”

“Of course I did. How’s everyone holding up?”

For the dancers who were at Arlag, this was their first big showing of their dancing skills, and from the emails from Pidge and Hunk, calls from Lance, texts from Jamie, Thace, and Ulaz, Keith knew everyone had been working insanely hard to make sure tonight turned out perfect.

“Nervous,” Lance said, “But I’ve seen what they can do. They’re going to be great. I know…” This sentence died off as Lance noticed something tucked behind Keith’s jacket. He reached out and tugged it free, breath hitching. “Wait a second. Is this…?”

Keith held it up. “My planetarium internship badge.” He didn’t even try to hide how happy he was to have passed the application process. He took Lance’s hands in his. “See?” he whispered. “I told you that we’d be together.”

Lance pulled him into another kiss, one soft and sweet and warm. 

A soft “ohh!” started, progressively getting louder and louder as they continued to kiss. Finally, Keith and Lance broke away, smiling at the group of dancers behind them. Pidge stuck out their tongue at them. “How about you two get a room?” they said, coming over to slug him lightly in the shoulder. “Glad you’re doing better.”

“Keeith!”

Before Keith knew it, strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him into the air. “Hunk,” he said as he gasped for breath. “Can’t… breath…”

Hunk put him down and grasped his shoulder, his goofy smile radiant. “How ya doing buddy?” 

“Great, now that I’m here with you guys.” 

Just then, Jamie sidled over. “Keith! Ah, thank god you could make it. I’m freaking out. What if I slip and fall and ruin the whole show? What if—”

Lotor came over and put an arm over his shoulder. “Jamie, what did I say? If you fall, then just get up and continue on with the show. No point in dwelling on a mistake you can’t change. But, as I’ve said a hundred times over, you _won’t fall_.” 

Jamie seemed to relax slightly into him, then nodded. Keith and Lotor exchanged a small smirk. They had made their peace long ago, and were now mutually coexisting in the company they both helped to create. 

“You guys having a good time here?” Keith directed the question at Jamie, but extended it to Ulaz and Thace as they wandered over. 

They each shared a knowing look. “We’ve never been happier, and we know for a fact that the other dancers are having the time of our lives.” Ulaz gripped his shoulder. “Thanks, Keith.”

Keith’s heart swelled. He felt Lance’s hand take his own. 

“Alright, everyone, let’s get dressed!” Kolivan shouted as he bounded into the room, Coran right on his heels.

“You heard the man!” he echoed. “Scatter! We have a show to put on!”

“Break a leg,” Keith said to Lance before hurrying to his seat in the theater. He found Matt in the seat on the other side of Shiro. He said a quick hello before the lights started to dim.

This theater had once been the visualization theater Keith had showed Lance earlier in the year. The giant screen in the front of the room had been converted to a stage. A spotlight was drawn on the center of it, the curtains still drawn. Allura stepped out from them. “Welcome, everyone. It’s an honor to present to you our first showcase at The Altea Company. Our dancers are very proud to present a showing of The Nutcracker and The Mouse King, and have worked very hard to make this night special. So, please, sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.”

She exited the stage, taking her reserved seat right next to Keith.

“This all feel familiar?” she whispered. 

Keith started to nod, but stopped. “A little, but… different. In a good way.” He toyed with his fingers a moment. “Allura… I—”

She held up a hand, then used it to grasp Keith’s. “I know.”

Then the music started.

It was Deja vu all over again, and Keith was suddenly twelve years old again. The song rang through him, familiar and warm, starting off with low, soft hum from the violin as the lights went out completely. But instead of the curtains opening, the ceiling above faded from black to a brilliant, glowing dark blue, enveloping the room in its color. Stars and constellations formed all across the screen—the screen that he thought had been shut down. 

“I thought you converted this room to just a theater?”

Allura smiled at his bewilderment. “You think the star-dome would shut down its most popular section? Please. We had to come to a compromise. I think it worked out for the best, though. Don’t you think?”

Just then, the curtains parted. The stage was completely decked out in old Victorian style furniture. Red, gold, silver ribbons and tinsel covered it all, including the giant Christmas tree at the center of the stage. Soon, Pidge, otherwise known as Clara, pranced onto stage, wearing a mint green nightgown, followed by a flock of younger kids from the lower level classes at Altea’s dancing school. Ulaz and Thace followed them on stage, wearing cordial Victorian apparel such as waist coats. More dancers came onto stage, performing the opening dance sequence that at age twelve, Keith didn’t appreciate as much as he did now.

When it was over, the music grew higher, more mischievous, and there came Lotor, aka Drosselmeyer, Clara’s uncle. His hair was slicked back, wearing a black waist coat, top hat, white cuffs and black cuff links. Wearing an impish grin, he handed Clara a present wrapped in blue glittering wrapping paper. After opening it, Clara held up a nutcracker to the audience, expressing her joy by showing it to everyone on stage. She twirled and spun with it in pace of the now upbeat music. Others joined her, performing another dance sequence. When it was done, the light on stage dimmed, and everyone but Clara, Ulaz, and Thace remained. Thace and Ulaz gestured to how late it was by pointing to the clock, gingerly taking Clara’s toy and setting it near the Christmas tree. Reluctantly, Clara exited the stage, accompanied by her parents.

A moment of silent passed, and Keith’s heart raced as the music shifted from the low choir it had been to something livelier. Next, silver smoke billowed out from both sides of the stage, enveloping it. When it cleared, the toy nutcracker was gone, and instead, stood Lance. 

Time seemed to stop. Lance was looking down at him, bright blue eyes piercing more than just his heart. He was wearing a dark blue tunic pulled together by gleaming golden ribbons and buttons, black tights, and a black toy soldier hat, the same outfit the toy had been wearing A ghost of a smile formed on his lips, a smile just for Keith, before time sped up again. 

Clara soon joined back on stage, having heard something stir in the sitting room. When she found the nutcracker, she feigned a gasp, and he took her hand in his. He danced for her, giving the audience a breath-taking performance, spinning and balancing on the tip of his toe longer and with more ease than Keith had never seen any other dancer do. He was art, and more beautiful than any of the constellations being projected on the ceiling above. 

The rest of the show seemed to end too quickly. Jamie had ended up being the mouse king, declaring war against the nutcracker and inevitable losing. At the end, Clara awoke in her bedroom, realizing it had all been a dream. That is, until she saw her toy nutcracker sitting on her nightstand. 

She pulled it closer, smiling, fondly remembering her adventures with it before going back to sleep.

The curtains closed, and when they reopened, their stood the cast, hand in hand.

The crowd exploded. A flood of flowers were thrown onto stage, and Keith, like the rule breaker he was, gathered the bouquet he’d hid under his seat and approached the stage. Lance noticed him, breaking away from the cast to lean down and take the flowers. “Did you like the show?” he asked over the roar. 

Keith slid his hand behind Lance’s head and gently pulled him into kiss, causing the audience to holler even louder. “Loved. Just like I do you.” 

With that, Lance yanked him onto the stage and wrapped his arms around him, deepening the kiss. 

Before this, there had been so many times in Keith’s life that he wished he’d gone back in and met Lance properly. To approach him after the first time he saw The Nutcracker. But looking at his life now, he wouldn’t change a thing. Everything that happened to him, happened for a reason; he’d faced hardship after hardship, only to finally be able to enjoy this moment with Lance. Because, unlike Clara’s toy, Keith’s nutcracker was real, and not only belonged to him, but he belonged to it. 

The crowd continued to cheer for them, and a moment later, the curtains closed, ending the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW ALRIGHTY. ONCE AGAIN, thank you all so much for your continued support. As I've said over and over again, I'm so grateful for all of you readers. I went into this thinking it'd be a single one shot, and had no idea it was going to grow into something like this. For a good while I debated whether or not to finish it all. The story hadn't turned out like I wanted it to, and that was my fault for not planning it more thoroughly in the beginning. You all are the only reason I decided to finish this story, and I honestly couldn't have done it without your comments, kudos, bookmarks, and art. Thank you all so much. Truly. 
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